


more records than the kgb

by irishmizzy



Series: Billy Ray's Angels [2]
Category: Disney RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Spy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-15
Updated: 2010-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:32:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishmizzy/pseuds/irishmizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie's Angels AU. When Miley quit Twitter, the repercussions were far worse than anybody knew -- she effectively quit the spy game. If that weren't bad enough, Selena quit at the same time, forcing Billy Ray to put the whole Disney Espionage Project on hold and forcing Demi and Joe back into civilian life. Which sucks. At least they have each other. And at least they have a shared, secret commitment to the cause, because when Kanye resurfaces, hell-bent on revenge for every time they sabotaged his attacks, they're going to need all the commitment they can muster to get the group back together and save the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more records than the kgb

**Author's Note:**

> Not true, no disrespect, etc. For [jb_bigbang](http://community.livejournal.com/jb_bigbang/profile)! rustandfinedust made the pretty much the greatest art + mix combo I could've dreamed of and I honestly cannot thank her enough. Also, cashewdani is a hero for our time. All the thanks in the world go to miss_bennie, who talked me into this mess and then talked me through it, every co-dependent step of the way.

Miley deletes her Twitter. That's how it all starts.

At first, Demi tells herself to stay calm. It can't be that bad, right? Maybe it's just an accident.

She tries calling. It goes to voicemail every time. She leaves messages ("Hey, Nighthawk, call me back." "It's me. Just... checking in!" "Hi, Miles. Is everything okay?" "Miley. Call me. Unless you're in trouble, in which case -- oh crap, I forgot the code word. Was it lima bean? Whatever, if you need help, say lima bean. Unless you can't talk, in which case... Crap") until the stupid robot voice starts telling her the mailbox is full. But things are probably fine, right? They're probably totally fine.

Just when she's convinced herself that it's probably not a major crisis, Billy Ray starts tweeting:

_@billyraycyrus: Miley. You are a light in a world of darkness. You were born"Destiny Hope Cyrus" for a reason.You can't leave everyone now.We r countin on u_

_@billyraycyrus: I understand "it is true one bad apple spoils the bunch".But listen to the words of your songs "Stand... for what ya believe in"...Remember?_

_@billyraycyrus: Words can hurt worse than bullets True.All the more reason to take this tool and tweet"I'm comin to Chicago and askin kids to stopkillinkids_

Demi stares at her phone in shock for god knows how long, counting and recounting, looking for the "Miley is in danger, agents activate," message. But she never finds it.

So she calls Selena.

Things have been weird between them lately, for so many reasons, really, but it's an emergency. They can get over their stupid differences for this.

"Hey," she says, as soon as Sel answers, "Did you know Miley went incommunicado? What's going on? Are we going to HQ?"

"... Yeah, about that. We've been thinking."

Demi knows what's coming next, like how people say they can see the car crash before it actually happens. "Without me?" she asks. Her voice sounds so small.

Selena's silent. It feels like being punched in the gut.

**

The truth is, Demi's always known that it could end as quickly as the whole thing began, that any mission could be their last. The higher-ups at the DEP were very clear about that. The Espionage Project is run no differently than the rest of the Disney franchise. They have a way of replacing spies the same way they replace actresses -- Lindsay and Christie and Keri and a million girls came before them, Bridget and Allisyn right behind, probably ready to go as soon as they get the call.

And sure, the missions take their toll. The whole 'double life as a secret crime-fighter' doesn't really make things easier, but Demi thought they had a good set-up going. She felt like they'd finally settled into it. And sure, she knew it wouldn't last _forever_. It's just. She never expected it would end so soon, either. And she definitely never thought her own team would just... abandon her.

**

Demi kind of expects it to be a dream, like she'll wake up and Miley's account will still be there and Selena won't be quiet and weird on the phone and everything will be normal again.

Only she wakes up and everything's still wrong. Miley's Twitter's not there. A text from Sel that says _im sorry, i cant_ is.

She wonders if it's an elaborate joke -- she hopes it is, really. She calls Joe and leaves him a long, rambling message about how she never found _Punk'd_ that funny, so if he knows something she doesn't then he should maybe remind everyone that she hates surprises. She ends it with, "Call me back. Please," and hates that it sounds like she's going to cry. It's a stupid thing to cry over.

And then Billy Ray's next tweet comes through.

_@billyraycyrus: Ok guys.I got the scoop Apples r one thing but hackers r another She had no choice She said she loves ya'll and please understand. I do now_

Her first move is to call Selena. Her phone's actually ringing when she remembers, oh, right, Selena quit, too. Said, "I'm tired all the time and... I think maybe I just need a break, Dem," and, "I'm really sorry," and hung up, just like that.

Demi hangs up quickly. She opens Billy Ray's tweet back up and stares at it for a long time, until she decides the only thing left to do is try to talk to him herself.

Headquarters it is.

**

She doesn't know what she's hoping for -- it's not like Billy Ray's going to be there. He never, ever is. But she figures maybe she can like, figure out a way to call him or something. He's talked to Miley recently. And Selena, too, probably. So maybe he'll have some actual answers. Because so far, Demi's got nothing.

It's not until she's walking down the hallway that she realizes she might not even _have_ access to HQ anymore. Two-thirds of her team deactivated; what if they wiped her prints out of the system, too? Deleted everything, like she never existed in the first place? When they started this gig, all that stuff was set up in under twenty-four hours -- transport, IDs, weapons, access, everything. Wouldn't it be just as easy to take all that stuff away?

She holds her breath when she presses the panel hidden next to the door frame, holds it the whole time she punches in the code, while she waits for her thumbprint to scan. She breathes the hugest sigh of relief when the door slides open.

The first thing she sees is Joe. He's sitting at his desk like usual, only none of the lights are on, he's just all lit up from the glow on his laptop monitor. He looks surprised to see her, and then a little guilty. Demi can hear Miley's YouTube Twitter rap playing through the speakers.

"Uh, hey." He slams the computer shut. Everything goes dark until he says, "Lights on."

"I've watched it like, a hundred times already," Demi says, sighing. She wanders over to the couch and sits down. When she looks up, Joe's watching her carefully. "I didn't know where else to go," she says.

"Me neither."

Demi wishes there were a throw pillow or something she could pull into her lap and hug. The room feels cold and impersonal right now, with its stupid leather cushions and metal furniture. She remembers how on their first day they'd thought it was so professional looking, so fitting for a spy headquarters.

"This. Is. Amazing," Miley had said, her grip on Demi's arm so tight Demi'd thought she'd have bruises for a week. They'd spent an entire hour exploring the office, looking in the drawers and under the cushions. Miley had taken all the books off the shelves hoping that one of them would be a lever that opened a fake door to a secret compartment.

"That's ridiculous," Selena had said, but then she started tapping on the walls looking for false paneling or a hollow front or something.

And then Billy Ray's voice had come through the speakers and they'd all freaked out and he'd told them their liaison would be showing up soon --

"What the hell is a liaison?" Demi had whispered, confused.

"Your contact in the field," Billy Ray'd said, and _that_ had scared the crap out of them all, realizing that he'd hear them even if they whispered.

"So like our handler?" Selena'd asked and Demi'd tried to think of all the spy movies and shows she'd seen to place it in context.

"Sorta," Billy Ray said. "Yeah, you could say that. He'll be the one who's with you, if you need help. He'll help y'all train and get yourselves situated and all since I can't be hangin' around with ya every second of every day."

Demi'd wanted to know why, exactly, Billy Ray couldn't be seen with them, but at the time it had seemed easier not to ask any questions and eventually they just accepted things as fact -- like the whole communicating via Twitter thing, learning to count the spaces between Billy Ray's punctuation marks instead of getting direct SOS messages or whatever. At the time she'd figured someone would tell them the full answers, and then Joe had walked in and jokingly said, "Hello, Angels," and handed them each a folder explaining their first mission and Demi had been on a plane to New Mexico for special-ops training before she even had time to process that Joe was their liaison, that they were really doing this, this saving-the-celebrity-world thing, or whatever it was.

She guesses she's not doing it anymore. It's not like she can do it alone -- being tactical girl means you're all brains. What good are the brains if you don't have someone for breaking and entering and someone providing covering fire? They were a team. And now... apparently they're not.

"You okay?" Joe asks.

Demi nods. "Yeah," she says, "I'm fine," even though she's really, really not.

**

They've been sitting there not talking for a while when Billy Ray's voice breaks through the silence like a pilot telling everyone about some upcoming turbulence.

"Demi? Joseph? Y'all there?"

Demi jumps. Joe scrambles to hit the right sequence of buttons on the screen to open two-way communication.

"Yeah, we're here," he says.

"Okay, good. So I guess y'all heard the sad news."

"Yeah," Demi and Joe both say. Demi comes over to sit on the edge of the desk. Billy Ray can hear her from anywhere in the room, and she him, but she wants to be closer to the source right now. She doesn't want to miss anything.

"I've been tryin' to get her to come back, but you know Miles, she's stubborn as a mule when she wants to be. And Selena doesn't sound to keen on it, either." He sounds tired, like Demi feels. Like Joe looks, with his hair all over the place and his glasses on. Demi hadn't gotten a good look at him before, but from up close he looks out of it. He runs a hand through his hair and leans forward, elbows on the desk.

"So what's the game plan now?"

Billy Ray sighs and it echoes through the room. "Honestly, I'm not too sure. We're gonna put things in a bit of a holding pattern for a while, see how it all shakes out."

"So you think they'll come back?" Demi asks, feeling a twinge of hope.

Billy Ray's quiet for kind of a long time, and then he says, "I don't know, kiddo. I just don't know."

Joe doesn't look at her, but he reaches over and squeezes Demi's knee, just once.

"There aren't any young ladies coming up through the ranks though, at least none as reliable as y'all were, so we're real hesitant to put anyone new through that training. But it's been real quiet for a while now so we should be okay just laying low. We aren't anticipatin' any rumbles on the horizon, you girls made sure of that. We're just gonna lock it up for a while and see how that works for us."

"Okay," Joe says. "Sounds like a plan." He and Billy Ray start talking about what that means for HQ, the steps Joe'll have to go through to close everything up and all that. Demi tries to listen -- she knows at least part of it involves her, that she'll have to give up her badges and access codes and probably sign things promising never to use a grappling hook to enter a building again -- but she's too shell-shocked to process much of anything and she ends up zoning out for most of it.

"And Demi?" Billy Ray says when he and Joe are finished with their conversation.

"Yeah?" she says, her voice shaky.

"Y'all were some of the best. Don't you forget that."

**

Demi doesn't know how long she sits there, only that eventually Joe squeezes her knee again and says, "Come on," and ushers her towards the door. He drives her home and asks her if she's going to be okay like ninety-seven times. She wants to yell at him that no, obviously she's not, what is she supposed to do now? But she doesn't. She just nods dumbly every time and hopes he'll stop asking eventually.

They end up sitting in his car outside her house, the engine idling. Her hand's on the door handle for like, five minutes, but she can't make herself open it.

"What do we do now?" she asks. When she looks over, Joe's staring out his window at nothing. He shrugs.

"I... I guess we do what Billy Ray said. Lay low. Go back to our lives. Be normal."

Demi doesn't think she knows what normal means. That's the problem.

"I guess," she says, staring out her own window.

"Hey." Joe elbows her gently. When she looks at him, he's smiling. It looks forced, but he's trying. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out."

Demi forces herself to smile back. "We'll be okay," she repeats. She wonders how many times she'll have to say it before she starts believing it.

**

It takes a long while for it to sink in, and even then Demi's not sure it actually has. They're in Canada for filming, her and Joe -- and everybody else, too, she guesses. It's not like _they_ disappeared -- and it feels so isolated. Like they can go back to LA at the end and Miley will yell PSYCH! and fall all over herself laughing, pointing at Demi's half-annoyed, half-amused face.

Every day she checks Twitter. Every day she counts the spaces between Billy Ray's punctuation marks thinking that maybe today things will change. Maybe today he'll post something like _Is anybody out there ??? THRILLBILLYS UNITE!!!!! !_ and everything will be right again. She'll show up at HQ and Miley and Selena will be sitting there, laughing. Or maybe bickering about something, Selena poking Miley with her toes all, "How many times do I have to tell you, don't call me Eagle Eye." And when the door slides open and Demi walks in they'll both look up, kind of nervous and apologetic. Selena will tuck her hands into her sleeves and Miley will toss her hair and they'll both sit up a little straighter, waiting for her to say something.

"I hate you both, you know," Demi will say, but then she'll hug them because she really doesn't.

"You're a horrible liar, Dragon," Miley will say, her voice muffled by the tangle of limbs, and then she'll try to pinch Demi's side but get Selena's instead, and Selena will yelp and they'll go down in a heap on the couch, laughing hysterically.

And then Joe will walk in, his eyebrows raised, leering at them like a perv but in a joking way. "Angels," he'll say, "you know it hurts my feelings when you start without me."

And then someone will throw a pillow at his head and someone else will throw a pen and everyone will roll their eyes when he cries abuse and Billy Ray's voice will come over the speakers and everything that's all jacked up inside Demi will magically slide back into place, like missing puzzle pieces or a lock and a key or whatever it is that happens to make you feel whole again.

Only none of that ever happens. Billy Ray's tweets start coming fewer and farther between. Eventually he stops using any punctuation at all, and that -- that's the real kick in the gut. It makes everything seem that much more final. When she realizes it, she closes her computer and sits there for a really long time, in the darkness of her hotel room.

At least she doesn't cry. That's something, she tells herself. She doesn't know what, though.

**

Filming ends and after that going back to normal is even weirder. She goes to work, she comes home, she sleeps and eats and sings and every single thing feels like going through the motions. Sometimes she wonders if this is what it's like for real spies who get reintroduced to civilian life.

"You were a real spy," Joe says when she tells him as much. They're spending a lot more time together lately. At least when Demi's around him she doesn't have to act happy all the time. Or explain why she's sad. That stuff gets tiring after a while. Joe lets her just sit there quietly a lot. It's nice.

"You know what I mean," she says. He bumps his shoulder against hers and doesn't say anything else. Yeah. He knows.

**

For a long time she's sad. Sad and then... whatever comes after sad, when there really isn't an after. She doesn't know how to explain it. It's not like she walks around crying all the time, or that she can't get out of bed in the morning because the thought of living another day makes her want to curl up and die. She's just. Sad. Kind of all the time. It's like that thing where if you hold a sharp point into your skin for a long enough time eventually the pain goes away and it's just a dull, constant pressure. She's that kind of sad. A dull, constant pressure.

That is, until she's not.

It's like someone flips a switch in her brain or her heart or wherever your grief processing center is located and Demi wakes up one morning and she's just unbelievably angry. At Miley and Selena for abandoning her, at Billy Ray for letting them, at herself for mourning everything for so long. Just. At everything. That's when she decides she needs to get over it.

She's moving on with her life. Done and done.

Naturally, Joe's the first one she calls. Once the go-to man, always the go-to man, she thinks. And yeah, maybe she should distance herself from him, too, but it's not like... Whatever, she can make her own terms, here, and moving on without Joe would just mean doing the same thing to him that Miley and Selena did to her. And that's -- she couldn't do that. To him or to herself.

So Joe it is.

"Joe. Let's hang out." Short and to the point. Demi's not dicking around anymore. Moving on is serious business.

Thankfully, Joe doesn't ask any questions. He just shows up in her driveway. When she climbs into his car, she can tell he's watching her carefully, even though his eyes are hidden by his sunglasses.

"I don't want to talk about it," she says.

"What?"

She rolls her eyes -- he knows. He always knows -- and he lets it go. After a beat, Demi waves her hand at the windshield. "Drive, Jeeves."

They don't make it far before Joe says, "It's not that I mind chauffeuring you around the world --" Demi scoffs but he ignores her "-- but did you maybe have a destination in mind? Or are we like, escaping up the coast?"

Demi thinks about running away. Driving all the way up to like, Oregon. Or Canada. She's heard good things about Vancouver. They could take turns driving and stay at shitty motels and rent bad movies on Pay-Per-View and eat at whatever fast food joint is at the rest stops along the way. It sounds like a good escape.

The only problem is that they're them -- Demi Lovato and Joe Jonas. There's no way they'd make it out of California without being spotted.

She sighs and pulls her feet up, resting them on the glove compartment. Joe reaches out and whacks her knee gently. She puts her feet down.

"I don't know," she says, biting her lip. She looks out the window, watches the signs passing by. She just wants to _do_ something.

"Real helpful, Dem." But Joe's already changing lanes like a man with a plan. Because some things never change. See? She knew she could count on him.

"So," she says, after they've been driving in silence for too long. Not _that_ long, but long enough. She has some issues with silence lately. "Where're we going?"

He turns and grins at her for a second and then snaps his eyes back to the road. "Surprise," he says.

"Joe!" She hits his arm. He sticks out his tongue. "Come on, tell me."

"No way. Uh-uh." He puts up a strong resistance. Good enough that eventually she gives up, tucks her feet up and then puts them back down before he reminds her how much he hates footprints on the dashboard. She leans her head back against the headrest. The sun's high in the sky, blazing hot through the sunroof. Didn't LA ever hear of winter?

Joe pulls up outside a golf course. Demi makes a face automatically. "Golf?"

"No, look." He points past the -- whatever they call that place. Pro shop -- and Demi squints until she can see the windmill, the wooden bridge. She smiles.

"Yaaay," she claps.

"Who's awesome?"

Demi rolls her eyes and climbs out of the car before he starts singing some stupid I'm Awesome victory song.

**

Miniature golf, it turns out, is an awesome stress reliever. Like, to the point where Demi wonders if anyone professionally qualified has ever prescribed it. Who knew smacking a golf ball with a club could be so therapeutic.

"Uh, I think you just want to -- maybe if you -- never mind," Joe says, wincing every time she takes a whack at her ball. It's hot pink. The guy at the counter didn't give her a choice.

Demi sends it smashing into the clown's terrifying face for the third time. This time it leaves a pink dent right in his cheekbone. Good, Demi thinks. She wants to give him a matching one on the other side. She wants to hit the ball so hard it tears right through his stupid metal eye.

Sometimes she has surprisingly violent thoughts.

She hits it again. Pink dent, same side.

"O-kay." Joe takes a step forward. "Time out." He reaches out and takes the club from Demi, and then he waits for her to look at him.

"Did you forget to tell me that a clown murdered your family once upon a time?" he asks when she finally does.

"Joe." Demi feels tired all of a sudden, so tired. Something in Joe's face changes.

"Oh, no, hey, here." He hands the club back to her. It feels heavy in her hands. "Here, look."

He sets his club down -- not gently, of course, just kind of tosses it to the side, into the rock garden lining the path -- and steps behind her.

"Okay, like this," he says. His hand is warm in the center of her back, easing her forward. "Bend your knees more."

He leans closer and suddenly his arms seem like they're nine feet long, wrapping around hers, his hands over hers, positioning them on the club.

He points to the clown's gaping mouth. "Aim right for there." She can feel his breath against her hair. Or maybe it's just a breeze, who knows.

He swings the club -- they both do, four arms moving together. The back of her knee bumps against his as she torques her body slightly. She watches the ball roll smoothly through the clown.

"Nice." Joe takes a step back, and then another. He bends, picks up his club. Demi watches him moving, watches his shadow against the fake green grass. The whole thing feels surreal, like a scene from every dumb romantic comedy she's ever watched.

Whatever. It's just Joe.

He stretches, lifts the club high over his head like a barbell without the weights. His shirt rides up over his stomach, so Demi can see a stripe of his stomach, the waistband of his boxers. She looks away. This whole... this whole year is making her a little crazy.

"Step aside." Joe nudges her hip with his golf club. "Let the professional show you how it's done."

"Oh, really?" Demi raises her eyebrows.

"Really." Joe makes a big show out of lining up his shot, keeps a hushed commentary like they do for tournaments on TV. Demi would kill for an air horn right about now.

"Oh my god, it's mini golf, just do it already," she says, exasperated, after a good three minutes of _Jonas is really thinking about this one, he only needs a double bogey to maintain his lead in this one, but we all know that for him, it's always about setting a personal best._ "Who are you," Demi says, "Nick?"

Joe staggers back, hands clutched to his heart like she shot him. "Demi. Why would you -- how could you -- what -- after everything I've done for you?"

Demi bites back a smile and looks to the next hole. "I will leave you here." It's an empty threat and they both know it.

"Oh, right, because you're going to face the windmill by yourself."

"I could," she says, looking towards the actual windmill, and "Holy crap, is it allowed to spin that fast?"

Joe smirks.

"Shut up," she says. "Just take your stupid shot."

He does. The ball sails through the clown's mouth cleanly, followed by the tell-tale plastic _clink-plop_ of a hole-in-one. Of course.

Joe throws up his arms. "And that! Is how! It's done!"

Demi brushes past him; it'll probably take her at least three shots to get hers in.

"What, no high five?"

Demi turns around and sees him holding up his hand. "You're such a dweeb," she says, slapping her palm against his.

**

Joe wins, obviously.

"Not that the score is important," he says hurriedly.

Demi laughs. "It's a little important."

He laughs too, because who're they kidding: it totally is. Like, it's not life or death, but it totally matters.

She kicks her feet against the picnic table bench. The only part in the shade that didn't have gum stuck to it was top, so they're sitting on the table, eating snow cones. Joe had insisted snow cones were the only way to properly celebrate winning a golf tournament.

She has to admit he has a point; they're pretty delicious.

They eat quietly for a while. The place was pretty deserted as it was -- Demi guesses nobody's really clamoring to play mini golf on a random Tuesday -- so now it's just them and the sound of ice crunching mixed with Demi's feet tapping. It's nice.

She actually feels a lot better than she did this morning.

"Hey." Joe bumps his shoulder against hers. "You're okay, right?"

It's like he can read her thoughts sometimes. It's one of those things that's creepy and comforting at the same time. She can't really explain it.

She nods.

"You'd tell me if you weren't?"

The thing is, Demi doesn't know if she would tell him or not. She doesn't know how not-okay she'd have to get to be like, "Joe. I am not okay."

So she shrugs. "I guess."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him nod. Just once, a sharp up and down movement.

They go back to being quiet. Demi finishes her snow cone, but the cherry tastes too sweet, too fake. She ends up watching the rest of it melt into a blood red, syrupy mess. It reminds her of too many things -- fake blood from the set, first aid training at boot camp, that time Miley got a nasty gash from a broken window when they were in the Valley, dealing with their third Speidi meltdown in one week.

She gets up and throws it away. When she walks back, Joe's methodically shredding the paper that had been wrapped around his snow cone. The blue doesn't remind her of anything.

"Hey," she says, reaching out, stilling his hand. "Thanks. For today. It was a lot of fun."

She means more than fun and she thinks he knows that, because he nods a little before he smiles. "Good," he says. "Because I was thinking we should make it a thing. You know, like lessons? Since you suck so hard."

"I hate you," she says, knocking the paper out of his hand. Joe watches open-mouthed as it slowly scatters to the ground.

He hops off the table and scoops them up, blue and white crumbled into his fist. "FYI," he calls over his shoulder as he jogs to the garbage can, "Loser has to buy the winner dinner."

"I thought you said winner bought the loser snow cones."

"The rules of putt-putt are complicated, Lovato. Don't blame me. Take it up with the putt-putt king. President? Prime Minister?"

"The Prime Minister of Putt-Putt?"

Joe nods seriously. He twirls his keys around his finger and then unlocks the doors.

"I'll be sure to write him a letter," she says, following him to the car.

**

Slowly but surely, things get better.

She hangs out with Joe a lot. She goes to the set, she goes to the studio, she lives her life. It helps that she's busy.

Sometimes she still checks Twitter, but at this point she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to stop that. Some things are ingrained in your being, like looking both ways before crossing the street.

She's not sad all the time now, though, so that's good. She still gets angry sometimes, but she goes for a run, or calls Joe. She's getting better at mini golf.

Well. Maybe that last part is a lie.

"I swear," Joe says one afternoon, after Demi's missed the clown's mouth six times in a row. It isn't her fault. She's pretty sure the thing like, moves or something. Like maybe Wile E. Coyote paints it in a different place every time she looks down to set up her shot. "Once I saw you shoot three bullets and leave only one hole. How are you so horrible at this?"

Demi's goes stiff automatically. Joe does, too, like he only realized what he said _after_ he said it.

The thing is, they pretty much never talk about that stuff. And now -- she doesn't know. It's not like picking at a scab, because that would mean the wound was fresh. But it still hurts, like healed fractures in bad weather.

"I --" he says, and then he stops.

Demi shakes her head. "No, it's -- it's fine." She forces a laugh, because technically it _is_ funny. "Maybe it's one of those skills you need to practice all the time." She shrugs. "Use it or lose it."

That startles a laugh from him. Demi raises her eyebrow, confused. It wasn't that funny.

Joe waves his hand, saying no, it wasn't her. "Let's just hope the same isn't true for your golf skills," he says. "Otherwise we might need to move in here so you can practice 24/7."

Demi doesn't have to fake a laugh at all that time. When she calms down she puts on a mock-offended face. "Joe Jonas, are you insulting my skillz?" She drags out the end pointedly.

He gasps. "Demi Lovato, you need to earn that Z." And then he laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling in her into a half-hug. She leans into him, just a little, until she can feel the tension start to leave her spine.

**

Demi's driving to the set, stuck in traffic for the third day this week, when she gets hit with deja vu. Only it's not deja vu, it's an actual memory: Joe at the wheel while Selena backseat drove and Miley complained about how they're _spies_, shouldn't that mean they don't have to deal with traffic? What kind of jenky operation is The Man running, anyway?

"The Man?" Selena had said, making a face at Miley.

"I dunno, what do you think we should call him?" It had been their first official mission; everything was so shiny and exciting then.

"The Mouse?" Demi'd suggested. It had earned her high fives from everyone in the car. Even Joe, who'd been driving, getting angrier and angrier every time they called him Jeeves.

"Alright, since we're almost there, here -- Demi, could you grab those folders from that side pocket -- yeah, there -- everyone's names are on them. Study this stuff, guys, because there's going to be a test and seriously, there's no partial credit."

"Right-o, Jeeves," Miley'd said, mock-saluting, ignoring Joe's glare in the rear view mirror. Demi had ignored it, too, too busy flipping through the manila folder Joe'd passed her, through page after page of still photos from surveillance tape that she needed to sort together to ID their mark, like a night-vision Where's Waldo. It was starting to stress her out, until she came across a note from Joe stuck to one of the pages. "Breathe," it had said, in Joe's familiar chicken scratch. "You can do this. 'CAUSE YOU ROCK! - J." She'd laughed out loud; when she looked up, it was just in time to see him smiling, the corner of his mouth twitching up like he was proud of himself.

"What?" Selena'd said.

"I just --

"Oh, look y'all, I found our point of entry," Miley'd interrupted, and then it was all business. Demi'd forgotten about Joe's note until everything was over, mission accomplished, and she was home, bone-tired but still wide awake. And even then she hadn't really given it much thought past "huh."

Somehow it became their thing, though. He'd write her stupid notes and stick them on things -- post-its on her USB sticks or a scrap of paper slid into her closed laptop. They were never like, professions of love or anything substantial, it was just dumb stuff. "Kick his ass!" or "Don't get killed!" or "Remember: when in doubt, duck." They were actually kind of embarrassing, especially when Miley and Selena would try to steal them and read them. It was like getting a note from your mom in your lunchbox. "Good luck on your test today! xoxo, Mom." "Good luck with your kill-shot today! xoxo, Joe."

Not that he ever signed them xoxo or anything. But still. Same idea.

Traffic picks up and Demi blinks, clearing her head. She doesn't know why she's remembering that now. She remembers things at the weirdest times lately.

**

They're in the middle of a round of golf when Demi says, "Worst thing about civilian life, go."

They practically live at the place now; the old dude at the desk -- Karl, they're totally on a first name basis -- saw them coming this afternoon and had a scorecard and two balls, one pink, one green, ready to go before they even got out of the car. Sometimes Demi feels bad for him having to put up with them all the time, but there's never anyone else here, so clearly he could use the business.

"What?"

Demi repeats it. "Worst thing about civilian life." It's just another thing she's been thinking about lately -- the stupid things she misses. Like chatting over the commlinks and wearing black knit caps and knowing that she had a better reason for being insanely exhausted than the "I was sad and couldn't sleep so I watched a Top Model marathon for six hours." Which, incidentally, was why she was super tired at work yesterday.

Civilian life kind of sucks.

"Oh, we're calling it civilian life now?" Joe asks. He makes a motion for her to go ahead and take her shot any day now.

"I've always been calling it that. Why? What have you been calling it?"

He doesn't say anything. She focuses on her swing, on keeping her arms straight. The ball makes a loud thumping noise as it goes through the rollercoaster-style loop. When she looks up, Joe's bouncing his putter on the ground and catching it.

"The lights don't turn on when I talk to them," he says. "That's what I miss the most, I think. Or the not having to go through airport security. Also my desk chair was like, the most comfortable desk chair in the world. I really miss that. I should've stolen it when we left."

She laughs. "Yes, your desk chair was definitely the highlight of the whole DEP experience."

He steps all the way into her personal space and puts his hands on her shoulders. The handle of his golf club digs into her arm. He leans so close that their noses are almost touching; her breath catches in her throat.

"Demi. That chair was my _favorite_." He drops his head to her shoulder and fake sobs. She rolls her eyes and pushes him away.

"Take your shot, weirdo."

He does; his ball knocks into hers, sending them in opposite directions, farther away from the hole. She bends down to move it away from the edge of the green so has enough room to take her shot.

"How 'bout you?" he asks while she's lining it up. "Worst thing about civilian life."

She hits the ball and says, "The severe lack of walkie talkies." That, and the losing two of your best friends.

The ball falls into the cup. Hole in two.

**

Joe shows up with walkie talkies the next week.

"Did you know they sell these at Target for like twenty bucks? Kevin told me!" he says when he gives them to her.

She rolls her eyes. "You're such a --" She doesn't finish the sentence; she doesn't know what he is.

"Come in, Demi. Kcch, come in."

"You don't have to make the static sound, you know that, right? You just press the button and talk."

"You always take the fun out of everything."

She holds the walkie talkie up to her lips. "Lieutenant Funkiller, reporting for duty," she says, grinning.

They spend the rest of the afternoon dicking around with the walkie talkies, using them to play I Spy on the golf course instead of actual golf. The irony of the game isn't lost on her, but it's a lot of fun anyway.

**

"Backwards day," Joe says, like that means something to her. When she stares blankly he says, "We're doing everything backwards. Even the game, 18 to 1 this time. Mixin' it up."

Karl's already got their balls and clubs ready, but Joe waves him off. "Snow cones first. It's Backwards Day."

Karl nods like he understands. Demi smiles at him and he winks, chuckling.

They're eating their snow cones when Demi realizes there's a problem with this whole 18-to-1 plan.

"We'll lose our balls at the first hole," she says.

He shrugs. "So we skip it. Seventeen backwards, then 18 at the end."

"Loser buys dinner?"

"Of course. But at IHOP. Breakfast."

"Right, of course." She leans against him a little when she laughs. It's a good day already.

And then it gets better.

Demi doesn't know what comes over her, but one minute she's jumping up and down, cheering because she sank a hole in one at the windmill, and the next she's kissing Joe like it's something she does all the time.

"Uh," she says eloquently. Her hands caught in the front of his shirt, loose fistfuls of fabric. This close, she can feel his breath on her cheeks. He's flushed. She's sure she is too. "Happy Backwards Day?"

"I'll say." He laughs and licks his lips and she realizes how much she wants to kiss him again. So she does.

**

Demi's in her dressing room flipping through a Cosmo she's had since the show started when her phone rings. She expects it to be Joe -- it's always Joe these days -- so she doesn't bother checking the screen before she answers.

"What's up?"

"Heyyy!" It's definitely not Joe.

"... Miley?" Demi says eventually, once the connection between her brain and her mouth starts working again. She pulls the phone away from her ear and yup, there it is, right there, _Miles_.

"Girl, it has been forEVER," Miley says. She sounds the same, which. Demi doesn't know what she was expecting. It's not like she returned from the dead or anything, she just... took off with her new boyfriend. And left all her friends behind. Whatever. "What's new with you? Tell me everything."

All the stuff Demi wants to say gets stuck in her throat. Instead, she ends up playing along and they act like nothing's wrong. Like none of it is different.

"Nothing really. There's much to tell," is what she says. "You?"

"Oh my god, so get this --" Miley starts in on some story about Liam and whatever the hell they've been up to lately. Demi leans back against her couch and closes her eyes. She tries to care about what Miley's saying, but all she can think is _you left. You left and you still haven't come back._ But Miley's not talking about any of that -- it never comes up, even though it's all Demi can think about. Instead she hears about Miley's movie and tour plans and everything she knows she should care about but can't bring herself to.

"Oh no, Miley, I have to -- they're calling me to set, I gotta go," she says, interrupting.

"Awww. Okay, well, call me soon or else I'm gonna be real upset. It's been _way_ too long."

"Yeah. Sure," Demi promises. She ends the call and tosses the phone onto the floor. She stares at nothing for a long time, until Brandon comes banging on her door because she really _is_ needed on set.

**

"Hey." Joe scrapes his teeth against her neck to get her attention. "Hey, you okay?"

She shivers automatically. They're watching a movie, though it's more like there's a movie playing in the background while Joe and Demi make out while Demi mentally rehashes every bit of Miley's phone call. She's pretty distracted. Which he's clearly noticed. Oh god, who knows how long he's been trying to get her attention. She is the worst person ever.

"Dem?"

"Yeah. I'm good," she lies. When she looks at him she can tell he doesn't believe her. But he doesn't say anything. After a minute he kisses her shoulder and then rests his head on her chest, settling his body weight on top of her like a human blanket. He fishes the remote off the floor and rewinds the movie to some part that looks a little familiar. Demi closes her eyes and breathes in, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She tells herself it'll be fine, she just needs a little time.

**

She starts having these dreams, the kind that are so realistic it takes her a while to realize if she's asleep or awake. It's always a mission, always Selena's voice in her earpiece, Miley tugging on her arm, leading her down a dark hallway. The familiar weight of a gun tucked into her waistband, the smell of gunpowder burning her nose.

They're more like memories than dreams, really -- the moment when the fight ended and everything went still and quiet, when they were still cautiously tense about how it had all worked out. The trip home, always loud and happy and fun, the polar opposite of the nerve-wracking, focused trip there. Sleeping on the plane, bone-tired once all the adrenaline had drained away.

She thinks it's because Miley called, that somehow it dredged up everything she's spent so long trying to tamp down. Turns out they're the kind of dreams she doesn't want to wake up from, even during the heart-pounding battle scenes. Even though she always wakes up sad, nostalgic for something she thought she'd stopped missing.

Oh well. At least they're not nightmares.

**

Maybe it's the dreams. Maybe it's Miley's phone call. Maybe it's something she hears Seacrest say on E! News one afternoon while she's walking through the room. Maybe it's because Joe's busy with the last minute stuff for Kevin's wedding so he's not around as much. Maybe it really is just a matter of old habits dying hard. Maybe it's a combination of all those things.

Whatever it is, it doesn't really matter. All that matters is Demi starts tracking Kanye again. He was -- is? These are the kinds of things she doesn't know how to categorize. It's not like Kanye stopped being crazy just because Miley decided she didn't want to fight him anymore. Because Selena got tired of the whole thing. Anyway -- Kanye was their number one nemesis, the one who always showed up at the worst times. And he's been laying low ever since the whole holding-Taylor-hostage-at-the-VMA's-thing.

At first it was great. Demi hates dealing with Kanye. He's the kind of crazy where he'll like, hold entire theater's hostage or hijack telethons or whatever.

"He's just sensitive," Selena had said once, when she was feeling extra generous.

"Yeah, if by sensitive you mean batshit insane, sure," Miley'd said.

Demi had been far away from them, holding her position on a different side of the roof, so she couldn't see the face Selena made in response. She hadn't needed to, though, to know what it looked like.

"Guys," she'd said, keeping her voice quiet even though logically she knew Kanye couldn't hear them. He'd started to move a little though, and Selena's chance to take her shot had been diminishing rapidly.

"Yeah, yeah." They'd said it in unison, which had made Demi laugh, and then there'd been the _pop_ of Sel's rifle. Kanye'd dropped right after, tranq dart right in his neck.

"Nice one, Eagle Eye," Miley'd said. Over the comm, Demi'd heard them high fiving as Selena said, "Don't. Call me that."

So, yeah. Demi had gotten used to always being peripherally aware of what Kanye was up to, kind of like Batman keeping tabs on the Joker. And now that he's been on his self-imposed sabbatical for like, a million years, it's -- well, she's getting suspicious. She doesn't know why, but paying extra attention to him feels like something she needs to be doing. It's a gut thing. And if she learned anything in basic, it's to trust your instincts. That and don't panic.

It's different now that there are no official dossiers, now that Joe's not giving her USB sticks with files and pictures and spreadsheets detailing everything that could possibly be pertinent to their crusade. All that stuff is locked up in the old HQ, too, so she doesn't even have access to their archived reports. Now all she has is a Google alert.

Oh well. It's a start.

At first it's just info gathering, reading articles and making mental notes about stupid stuff, like how many times he brings up Taylor in one of the rare interviews he does. It's not long before she's buying a map, hanging it inside her closet and using pushpins to track his movements. For Kanye, laying low sure includes visiting a lot of places. Maybe it's nothing -- maybe he's like, visiting friends and shopping in Paris because that's what he wants to do with his time. But it could be something, and ignoring it isn't something she wants to risk.

**

She has a dream that Kanye's wearing face paint on TV, holding a knife. "Why so serious?" he says, cold and menacing. And then his voice changes and he's yelling, "EVERYTHING IS NOT THAT SERIOUS."

Demi wakes up in a cold sweat. She has Twitter open on her computer before she's fully awake. There's nothing from Billy Ray. Of course there isn't.

She watches two episodes of The Golden Girls and half an informercial for the Magic Bullet before she's calm enough to fall back asleep.

**

Demi doesn't tell Joe about her secret recon work. At first it's because she doesn't know _what_ she'd tell him, exactly. It's not like she has a real reason for doing it other than "I think I should." She doesn't even know what she's looking for, just that she thinks she'll know when she sees it.

Eventually she's been keeping tabs on Kanye long enough that it'd be weird to spring it on Joe. "Oh, by the way, I've fallen back into the spy gig, only instead of doing my own thing, I'm doing your old job." That feels mean, sort of. So she just... keeps it to herself.

It's weird, though. And the longer it goes on, the weirder it gets. Joe isn't someone she's used to keeping secrets from. Because back... Before, there were people who knew everything, all her secrets and what she did in her free time and why she was showing up on the set looking like death because the only sleep she'd gotten had been on the red eye back from a mission in Atlanta.

Now Joe's her only link to that past. Not involving him in it feels wrong. But she thinks it's too late to fix it.

Plus, there's that whole thing they're doing where they make out all the time and they're kinda sorta dating. Demi doesn't want to upset the delicate balance they've created. It's taken so long to get them here, to get to a place where things are good and they're _happy_. She really doesn't want to ruin it.

So she tries not to dwell on it. They still hang out. They still do everything they've been doing for the past few months. Demi sets a special ringtone for Kanye alerts and buys more pushpins for her map. She saves everything in a file marked _history hw_.

It's not that big a deal, she tells herself. What Joe doesn't know won't hurt him.

Someday she figures she'll start to believe it.

**

She throws herself into her Kanye tracking, and then there's work and Joe and more work and before she knows it, she's at Kevin's wedding. It feels like it came up out of nowhere and smacked her in the face.

"Your brother is _married_," she says. Nick laughs like he can't believe it either.

"Cutting in," Joe says, popping up beside them.

"Joe, I didn't know you cared." Nick holds out his hands like Joe's asking him to dance. Joe gently hip-checks him out of the way.

"Don't you have a bill to veto or something?" he says. Nick scowls but Demi laughs; she doesn't think Administration jokes will ever get old.

She watches over Joe's shoulder as Nick wanders off to find someone else to dance with. Joe's hands settle low on her waist.

"Having fun?" he asks, smiling. It's been a good night; Demi danced and ate and laughed and she hasn't thought about anything else. Well, almost anything. She'd twittered pictures once or twice and maybe she scanned her feed to see if everything was okay, checked her email quick for any Google alert updates, but that's it. No big deal.

She presses closer to him as they sway, so their faces are close enough to be almost touching. When she nods, she can feel his hair brush against her cheek. She closes her eyes and lets Joe lead her around the floor.

**

The party starts to die down after Kevin and Danielle make their grand exit. It doesn't take long for things to go still, for everyone to leave. And now. Now it's quiet, just her and Joe and a whole castle around them, empty chairs and cleared tables. There's not even music playing, just them and quiet. It's a lonely sort of quiet, too. The kind she's gotten way too used to this year.

She's caught herself thinking, multiple times tonight, what it might have been like if Sel and Miley were here. Not that they were integral to the wedding or anything, it just -- it would have been different.

Sometimes Demi misses them so much she can't stand it. It's one of those feelings that never totally goes away. It just resurfaces when she thinks about it and then it's impossible to ignore, this giant, gaping absence in her life. It feels like she's missing two arms and all she's left with are these stupid, functional ones.

"I maybe had some champagne when your dad wasn't looking," she says, because Joe's starting to look super confused by her explanation.

"Uh huh." He's looking at her like he's picturing her with different arms or something, going a little cross-eyed with the effort. Then he starts to laugh, tipping forward so his forehead's against her shoulder. She pats his knee and waits for him to stop. His pants are warm and a little scratchy under her palm.

Eventually he sits up, leaning back in his chair, head tipped up to the ceiling.

"Can you believe we're in a castle?" he says, looking around them. "It's pretty impressive, huh?"

Demi shrugs. "Remember that place in -- wherever? With the dogs and Katy Perry and the guns on the boats? _That_ was impressive."

Apparently the champagne has made her morose and nostalgic. It's a bad combination, she thinks. Or, it could be. It could be okay, too. They're getting to that place where they can talk about it sometimes, if the mood is right.

Joe sits up. He has faraway look that makes her nervous that maybe the mood _isn't_ right, but then he says, "Oh my god, I _do_ remember that place. Where they heck where we?"

"Shree -- Sri Lanka? Shreveport?" Demi wrinkles her nose, trying to think. "I don't know."

"Huh." Joe stretches out, curling his arm across her chair back. His fingertips are just brushing her arm. It makes her shiver.

"Well," he says eventually, "If Kev asks, maybe say --"

"Right, of course, most impressive castle ever." Demi nods. When she looks at him, he's smiling knowingly, like they have a funny inside joke and not depressing memories of their old secret lives.

And the weird thing is, thinking of it like that makes Demi feel happy -- not sad, not lonely, not angry, but actually _happy_ \-- for the first time in... in forever.

She leans her head on his shoulder. He turns and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"I'm glad you're here," she says, so quietly that she doesn't know if he even hears it.

**

She doesn't see Joe for a while after the wedding ends. It's not on purpose, it just takes some time for them to get their schedules aligned.

It's probably a good thing, she thinks. They're not being 100% co-dependent anymore. Not that she doesn't miss him or anything -- she misses him a lot. But she's okay with talking to him on the phone or texting or whatever. She doesn't need to see him every day to keep from feeling like she's going to spin out of control.

Their first free day they meet up for brunch. Pancakes and orange juice and "You're doing okay, right?" all in one sitting. It's nice.

He's paying the check when Demi mentions she has to go to the bathroom. "Hurry," Joe says, waving her away. "If the paparazzi show up, I'm leaving you here."

"My hero," she calls to him as she's walking away.

When she gets back he's waiting along the wall by the exit, holding out her phone. "It made a weird noise," he says as she takes it from him. She must look pretty confused because he imitates it, or tries to, his mouth going all funny when he makes a complicated mechanical chiming noise.

He's demonstrating the noise again when she realizes it was one of her Kanye alerts. "Shit," she says out loud. Joe goes kind of still. Her head snaps up and she fakes a laugh. "No, it's no big deal. Just --"

Her brain stalls and she can't think of a lie. Shit. Don't panic, number one rule, and here she is.

"Well now I _need_ to know," he says. He grabs for the phone and she moves away. He steals it from her on the second pass. "Getting sloppy there, Lovato," he says, laughing. "Not so ninja anymore."

The insult stings more than it probably should.

When he reads the alert -- when he realizes what it is -- he makes this face, like... Demi doesn't even know what it's like. There's no entry for that in the catalog of Joe faces she's been building for years.

"Oh my god, are you Joe Jonas?" a girl all but shrieks, startling them both.

"Uh." Joe hands Demi her phone and starts to propel her forward, toward the door. "Hey," he says, his voice low under the sudden commotion in the restaurant, "Come -- can you come back to my place? We should... talk."

She nods automatically.

**

The whole ride back to Joe's place, Demi's heart is hammering in her chest. She keeps telling herself to calm down, it's no big deal, it's just Joe. She'll explain the whole Kanye thing, he'll understand. Maybe he'll be a little insulted, but in the end it's really no. Big. Deal. She needs to cool it.

It doesn't help that Joe's tapping nervously on the gearshift the whole way, an erratic beat that only makes her more tense.

"Can you just --" she brings her hand down on top of his and then pulls it away just as quick.

He shoots her a weird look, but says, "Sorry," and stops.

They're about a block away when he calls Garbo. "What're you doing this afternoon? No reason, just... wondering."

Demi makes a face at him because now _he's_ being a weirdo. The rules of time and space dictate only one of them can be freaking out at a time and this is her turn. He has to wait until later. Much, much later.

"Garbs, I said never mind, jeez. Enjoy your game. I hope you hit every shot into the water." Garbo says something that makes him laugh and shake his head. "Yeah, later. 'Bye." He hangs up the phone as they're pulling into the garage. He rolls his eyes at Demi. "Roommates," he says, like they're a burden.

Demi runs her fingers through his hair, right over his ear. It's getting long again, he needs to get it cut. "Poor baby. Your life is so hard."

"Shut up." He swats her hand away and gets out. Demi has no choice but to follow.

Joe waits until they're inside to say anything else. "So..."

For a minute it's unbearably awkward, the two of them standing there, staring at each other, waiting. Trying to figure out what, exactly, to say.

And then the whole thing comes spilling out, how she's tracking Kanye because there _is_ such a thing is too quiet, and so what if she can't stop caring, why do people think that's such a bad thing these days? And she's sorry for not telling him, but at first it was because she didn't know why she was doing it. And now she _still_ doesn't know why, but he knows, and...

She trails off, a little breathless from her rant. Joe looks a little shell-shocked by the whole thing.

"You probably think I'm crazy," she says, because he's staring at her like he does.

"No," he says automatically, as if the thought never crossed his mind. He shakes his head and says it again, carefully, "No, Demi, I -- no. I don't think you're crazy."

She nods; she starts to feel a little better.

Joe takes a deep breath. "Dem, there's something I need to show you."

He motions for her to follow him, all the way up to his room. He waves her in, motions for her to sit down. The only free space is the bed.

"You better not be taking advantage of me, Jonas." She's trying for a joke but it comes out a little strained. He laughs anyway and starts rifling through his desk drawers.

When he sits next to her, he's got a binder, the extra-thick three-ring kind. "Here."

She opens it carefully, worried something might pop out at her. Nothing does, it's just papers inside. Except when she starts leafing through it, she realizes they're maps and articles and pictures -- everything's been drawn on: routes traced, key words highlighted, the pictures all have circles and arrows and paragraphs on the back explaining when and where they were taken and who's pictured.

And it's all about Kanye.

"Wait," Demi says. She stares at a series of pictures, all Kanye in Paris that she recognizes from a couple months ago. "Wait."

When she looks up, Joe's nodding.

"You too?"

"You should've said something sooner," he says. "I didn't want to say anything because, you know, I didn't want to seem like I was moving on without you or -- I don't know, I had reasons. They made sense at the time."

"Me too," she says, laughing.

"But, I mean, if we were both -- can you imagine. With our powers combined --"

"We are Captain Planet?"

"Yes, exactly, Demi," he says wryly, rolling his eyes. But then his face lights up, "Didn't one of them have a pet monkey?"

"We're not getting a monkey, Joe."

He flops onto the bed. "Seriously, you always ruin all my fun."

She flops next to him, sliding over so her head's pillowed on his shoulder. She holds up the binder until he takes one side. "Tell me everything," she says.

So he does.

**

It's not a lot. He's got better surveillance footage than Demi did, though. All his information is a better quality.

"How?" she asks, pushing herself into a sitting position. When he hesitates she pokes him in the stomach. "Joe."

"Okay, so... So sometimes I still talk to Billy Ray. And maybe I still have access to the stuff from HQ."

Her jaw drops. "What?"

"I don't know!"

"But I thought they deleted us from the system."

"They deleted _you_," he says. "Well, they _said_ they deleted you guys. I bet you could still get in, I never actually checked with anyone. But -- they never actually axed me. They just... put me on hold. And Billy Ray told me not to abuse the privilege."

He's biting his lip like he's nervous she's going to freak out.

"Huh," is all she says. It's all she can think of. What if they didn't delete her access? That's -- that's good, right? Whatever, it doesn't matter. She doesn't need that stuff. Or, she didn't before. But if she does now, well. Apparently she has it. Or, Joe has it, and that's pretty much the same thing.

"Plus, I mean, come on," he continues. "It was pretty obvious I still had some of the perks."

Demi makes a face, confused. "How was it obvious?"

"Demi, how did you think we managed to show up at a golf course whenever we wanted without a) paparazzi or b) a single other patron?"

She's stunned. "I... I guess I never thought about it." But now that she does, it's pretty obvious. "Billy Ray, huh?"

"He was worried about you -- about us both, I guess. He said it might be a good stress reliever."

Demi starts to laugh. "That's -- I thought the exact same thing the first day."

Joe laughs, too. "I could tell," he says. "That poor clown is never going to be the same."

She shoves him and they both fall back onto the bed in a heap, laughing like crazy people.

They spend the rest of the day like that, combing through Joe's archives. Demi makes notes in the margins of things he missed, adds alternate theories. Every so often she has to pause and remind herself this is really happening.

"You alright there?" Joe asks. He's sitting on his floor, computer on his lap, scrolling through the newest Kanye updates.

"Yeah," Demi says. "I just can't believe it."

He laughs. "Me neither." He tilts his head back, craning his neck to look at her. "We're the perfect team and we never even realized it."

She reaches out and cards her fingers through his hair. They realized it, they just... forgot it for a while there.

"Oh!" he pushes his laptop aside so he can scramble onto his knees. "I forgot to tell you -- this is the best part! I've been working on a secret lair. Well, not a lair, but like, a mini HQ. It's more fun if you call it a lair, though."

"Your guest bedroom is not a lair, Joe."

He chuckles and makes a face. "Ha ha, you're so funny I forgot to laugh."

"But you just laughed."

"At your face."

"At your mom's face."

"At your --"

"Secret lair?" she teases.

He slumps back down, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine, see if I let you see it."

Demi kneels up and locks her hands together like she's begging. "Please, Joe, _please_ show me the secret lair."

He tries not to smile, she can tell he's fighting it as hard as he can, but eventually he cracks.

"This way." He hops to his feet and heads for the basement, bounding down the stairs three at a time.

**

There's a false panel in one of the walls in Joe's basement, the kind where you press it in the right combination of spots and it slides open.

That alone would be impressive, but then she steps inside and sees that it's an honest-to-God lair, all tricked out like a mini version of their old headquarters. Well, minus all the awesome furniture.

"This would be a lot better if it had a leather couch," she says. Joe starts wiggling his eyebrows. She hits him.

"We could always share the desk chair," he says, leaning closer. She rolls her eyes and starts making her way around the room, trailing her fingers over everything, listening as Joe explains what all the buttons do. There's a blank wall for projector-style presentations, a computer networked to their old system ("Maybe I'll give you the password," he says, "if you're cooperative."

"Maybe I'll practice my bamboo sharpening technique," she says.

"The password is pandabears."

Demi smiles and files it away for future reference), and one of those telestrator-style tablets Demi's always wanted to try.

"Go for it," he offers, holding out the stylus.

She draws a smiley face first, grinning when it shows up on the wall opposite them. A flower. A tree. Her name. Stupid things, but nonetheless fun.

"Hey, so... You're still, like... committed to the cause, right?" Joe says.

She looks up from her picture. "What? You mean like, this?" She gestures to the lair. Joe nods. "Hell yeah," she says. She's been committed to it since day one. He should know that.

Joe's face splits into a grin. "Thought so," he says. "Ready?"

"For what?"

He presses a button on the desk and then,

"JONAS. Y'all better not be messin' around in there again. I told you, it's for business use only."

Demi almost drops the tablet.

"I'm not messing around, Billy Ray. The Eagle has landed."

On his end of the phone, Billy Ray sputters. "The _Eagle_? I didn't know --"

"No, wait," Joe interrupts him, "Not the Eagle. Which one were you?" He hisses that last part to Demi.

"Which one what?" She's confused.

"DEMI? That you?"

"Hi, Billy Ray," she says. She feels like she just got caught talking in class or something.

"Well I'll be a -- we've missed you around here!"

Joe's grinning and Demi realizes she is, too. "I missed you guys, too," she says. "Well, I saw Joe, but --"

"We know what you mean," Joe says, curling an arm around her shoulders.

"All right, you two, no getting cozy on the company dime."

Joe and Demi spring apart; Demi starts looking around -- is there a camera, how does he know? Joe catches her eye and shrugs, mouths that he has no idea either. Maybe Billy Ray's just developed some sort of sixth sense in their off time.

"Listen," Billy Ray says, bulldozing right over their silent conversation -- either he can't see them or he doesn't care. "We need to figure out a plan. Get a way for you two to communicate without really communicatin', ya follow?"

And that's how Joe ends up on Twitter.

**

_@ddlovato :( smile :)_

"JOE." Demi reads the tweet and goes right back to banging her fist on the door. "This is NOT FUNNY. LET ME IN."

"I told you," he says, "not until you get it right."

"And I told you, your secret knock is STUPID."

"It's not a secret knock it's a _series_ of knocks that unlocks the door."

"Whatever," she says. "LET ME IN."

"NOT UNTIL YOU GET IT RIGHT."

She tries again. And again. And again. Each time it's wrong. Joe made it so stupidly complicated. Why couldn't he have just had a fake book on a shelf that you pulled? "THIS IS RIDICULOUS," she yells.

"DEMI, I THOUGHT YOU WERE A SPY. HOW CAN YOU NOT REMEMBER THIS?"

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't be YELLING THAT KIND OF INFORMATION THROUGH THE DOOR, OH MY GOD, JOE."

Of course, that's when Garbo pokes his head into the room. Shit. Demi goes stock still, trying to figure out how to make this seem like a totally normal thing, yelling at Joe through the wall. Fuck. She is seriously going to kill Joe when she gets in there. Or maybe she'll move their spare bookshelf in front of the panel so he can never get out.

"Heyyyy, Garbo," she says, hopefully loud enough that Joe hears.

"What the FUCK is going on?" he asks. She bites her lip.

"STUCK IN THE WALL, GARBS," Joe yells in a panicked voice. "DEMI'S HELPING ME. GO BACK UPSTAIRS, IT'S ALL GOOD."

Garbo gives her an incredulous look and backs out of the room. She thinks she hears him say, "They have gotten so _weird_ lately," but her blood's rushing too loudly through her ears to be sure.

"See," Joe hisses through the wall. "Your lack of preparation totally compromised the mission."

Demi hits the door angrily and it slides open. Joe's standing there grinning. "You got it!"

"You are the worst handler ever," she says sourly, crossing her arms.

He waggles his eyebrows. "Is there a specific way you'd like to be handled?"

"I should've left you in the wall."

**

The new set-up works great -- it's good to be doing something again. Before she was all action. She never really did much of the prep work -- that was all Joe and Billy Ray and she assumed a bunch of people in cubicles wherever the DEP hid them so they could collect intel. Now it's all prep. And she kind of loves it.

Anyway. Things are awesome. But at the same time, just as she feels like she's settling into a new rhythm, Joe starts being weird. Demi can't really put her finger on it, he's just been... off, lately. Kind of cranky, kind of distant. Not horrible, just. Weird.

She gets it. Kevin's married, Nick's off doing his thing, bossing other people around for a change. It's hard being the one left behind. If there's anything she understands, it's that, and how it makes you feel like your skin doesn't quite fit anymore.

**

Joe calls her up and instead of saying something totally lame like, "get in loser, we're going golfing," like he usually does when one of them's being moody and needs to vent, he invites her over for dinner.

She's been to his new place a billion times now and it's still kind of weird to her that he's like, adult enough to have his own place. Which is weird because this time last year someone thought she was adult enough to carry a gun, but whatever. Living alone seems so much more grown-up.

"I'll cook," he promises.

"... That's supposed to make me _want_ to come over? Threatening me with food poisoning?"

"I'm a good cook!" he says, his voice an octave higher than normal. She laughs. "Shut up," he says.

Demi rolls her eyes.

"What time?" she asks.

That perks him right back up. "Seven? I don't know. Whenever."

"I'll see you at seven, Joe," she says, smiling into the phone.

**

"You want more eggplant?"

She pokes at the food on her plate. "Is that what this is?"

"Hey!" Joe makes a face.

"I'm kidding, it's really good." She eats another bite to prove it. He really is a pretty decent cook. "I'm just... not that hungry."

"Okay," he says, nodding. "But remember: you don't get any dessert if you don't finish your dinner."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"Oh really?"

"My house, my rules."

Demi makes a face at him and he makes one right back, cross-eyed with his tongue out.

"Careful. Your face is gonna stick like that," she says. He flings a noodle at her and she gasps. "Now who's not going to get his dessert?"

"Um, the master of the house always gets dessert."

"Does he now?"

Joe nods solemnly, like it's the most obvious of rules.

"Wait -- did you just call yourself the _master of the house_?" She bursts out laughing.

"See if I ever cook dinner for you again," he says, grumpily stabbing at his plate. She rolls her eyes at him again.

"Joe." He keeps stabbing his food and stuffing it into his mouth. Stab, bite, chew. Stab, bite, chew. "You're gonna choke," she says. She gets a face full of his chewed up dinner as a result. "Oh, gross."

She laughs, though -- she can't help it. Sometimes chewed up food is funny. They used to sit around on the flight home and do the same sort of thing, the two of them and Miley and Sel cramming a million fries into their mouths while laughing and rehashing the mission. It was always her favorite part of the whole top secret Hollywood spy gig.

Joe swallows when he realizes she's not laughing anymore.

"Hey," he says. He coughs a little, waves his hand in front of her face. "Hey, you still in there?"

Demi shakes her head to clear it. "What? No, sorry, yeah. I'm fine. What?"

"Yeah, you seem super," he says, but he doesn't press it. Demi goes back to her meal, picking at it but not eating. She's fully aware of how Joe's watching her now, of how the mood in the room has changed.

"Miley called me," she says. Joe drops his fork into his lap.

"Ow, shit. Sorry. Wait, seriously?"

She nods.

"When?"

"A couple times. It started a while ago. Before the wedding." Demi tries to remember, exactly, but she can't. She shrugs. She even doesn't know why she's bringing it up now.

"Did she --"

Demi shakes her head. "We talk about stupid stuff. Nothing, really. She's... good, I guess."

Joe's quiet for a minute, like he's trying to process it all.

"And -- you're good?"

"Yeah," she says. It gets easier every time Miley calls. It's still kinda weird, but it's getting better. "I'm fine."

"Right." He looks like he doesn't believe her for a second, but whatever. Aside from the dreams she _is_ fine. Really.

"Are _you_ good?" she asks, because. Well, okay, maybe she's being a little testy, but just because Joe used to be her -- their -- handler doesn't mean he gets to be the only one asking questions all the time.

He looks kind of taken aback by it, too. "I --," he says, and then stops, trying to decide what he should say. It's like he's flailing without moving.

"Joe."

"Nick and Selena are hanging out again." He says it in a rush, like if he says it fast at least he _said_ it, but maybe Demi won't actually hear it.

She does hear it, though. The whole thing. What was left of her appetite disappears completely.

"... Hanging out?"

Joe shrugs. "You know Nick."

Demi nods dumbly. She doesn't know what to say.

**

When Demi gets home, she digs around in her desk drawer until she finds a green pin. She sticks it in Chicago, where Nick and Selena are busy _hanging out_.

She takes a step back and stares at the whole map. This is what we know, she thinks.

It's a whole lot of nothing.

**

"How do y'all feel about goin' out on some field trips?" Billy Ray asks one afternoon.

"Like to the zoo?" Joe asks, turning around. Talking to Billy Ray's disembodied voice had gotten too weird -- they'd done it all the time, before, but for some reason being in the lair, just the two of them, Billy Ray coming through the speakers, it was just strange. They ended up taping one of his Hannah Montana headshots to the wall above the speakerphone so they have something to look at.

They'll do anything to avoid teaching him Skype.

"No, not like the zoo, Joseph," Billy Ray says. "I swear sometimes it's like your mama dropped you on your head as a baby."

Joe's mouth drops open as Demi doubles over laughing. When she can breathe again she asks, "What kind of trips?"

"Y'all need to get out and do more recon, the type of that isn't in the computer. We need to get you in the field."

Demi grins. She feels like she's going to explode from excitement at the mere suggestion.

**

They disguise the missions as appearances because that's the only logical way, but suddenly it seems like they're going somewhere new every week. Billy Ray sends them to American Idol so they can hear what other people in the industry are saying. They go to Epcot to canvass Florida. The rodeo in Houston means they get a handle on Texas.

Everywhere they go they keep an ear to the ground. Everywhere they go they end up with no new information.

"No news is good news," Joe says hopefully. It's what they say because the alternative -- being a spy is boring -- is even worse.

**

_@joejonas: Work, gym, sore, shake, lunch, fitting, space station, spaceship, outerspace._

Demi's glad she reads it while she's at a stoplight, already en route to his house. Because seriously, she is going to kill him.

"JOE." She pounds the combo on the door with the full of her fist, loud and angry. It slides open and she storms inside, wishing it would slam behind her. "SPACE STATION, JOE? SERIOUSLY. Why don't you just invite Access Hollywood over for a tour." She drops her purse on the ground with a satisfying thud. "God. If I have to sit through another of Billy Ray's boring Things That Are Okay To Tweet About lectures, I swear to God."

Joe's got his finger to his lips like he wants her to be quiet and she wants to shake him. Seriously, sometimes he can be so _stupid_.

"Hey, there, Miss Demi. Havin' a bit of a day?" Demi cringes as soon as she hears Billy Ray's voice. Joe makes an apologetic face. "I was almost finished tellin' Joseph here about why it's not a good idea to start chattin' about your daily activities when your activities include rendezvousin' with your co-conspirators, but now I'm thinkin' it's best if maybe I start from the beginning."

Demi and Joe both groan. Billy Ray ignores them and starts his speech from the beginning.

**

It's months and months of work, of recon missions to random cities, of secret meetings with just the two of them. They talk to Billy Ray once a week or so, just to get general updates, to tell him if they've found anything new. The rest of the time it's just the two of them in the lair.

Joe moves a couch in, ostensibly because the room needs more than the one desk chair. It's old and cushy, nothing like the sleek leather sofa in their original HQ. This one's much better to sit on, to nap on, to do... other things on. So yeah, she's not really complaining about his decorating choices.

The media finds out they're dating eventually. In their defense, they haven't done a very good job of keeping it a secret. Not that they were trying that hard. It's the best of both worlds, almost, except for the part where she still doesn't talk to Miley or Selena. But whatever; she's even getting over that.

Really, everything's good. Especially when Billy Ray starts making noises about Demi and Joe stepping up in the organization.

"It's about time to start thinkin' about what your next step is gonna be, is all. I think ya should seriously consider training the next wave. The DEP's real proud of your work. They're talkin' about putting together a new team and they're thinkin' you could be co-handlers."

"Seriously?" Demi and Joe are both a little thrown.

"Dead seriously," Billy Ray says. "Y'all make a great team. Be a cryin' shame to split it up."

They'll think about it, they tell him. It sounds like a sweet deal. It won't be the same, but that's fine. She's fine with that.

So yeah, things are real good.

Of course, that's when it all goes to hell. Again.

Not all at once, of course. It's just minor things at first -- things like Kanye starts dropping off the radar again. And he stops blogging -- well, he doesn't flat out _stop_, but his entries, even the tiny ones where the subject's like, WHOA THESE SHOES ARE AMAZING!!! I JUST BOUGHT FIVE PAIRS!!!! and the rest of it is a picture of some rhinestone and purple high tops, start coming fewer and farther between. It's not even anything that's like, insanely suspicious, but it's enough that they're all a little bit more on edge, a little bit more thorough in their research.

Billy Ray tells them not to worry. And then he makes them spend two hours deciphering Twitter codes. "A little practice never hurt no one. Now hush unless you want to make it three hours."

Joe grunts and tries to copy Demi's answers. "Hey," she says, kicking at him.

He pouts, puppy-dog eyes and all, giving it his best, but she stands strong. She had to spend an entire afternoon learning this code when they were in training in New Mexico. He doesn't get to get out of it that easily.

"What if something happens and you're unprepared?"

"I'll have you," he says.

She rolls her eyes and taps the screen of his phone. "Count the spaces, Joe. And don't jinx us."

**

Demi's in Colorado when it everything officially falls apart. Her first thought is that goddammit, Joe totally jinxed them. And even then she rereads Billy Ray's tweet three times just to make sure she's not going crazy.

_@billyraycyrus: o k You are correct . It is time to make a stand. Lean into the music . I am here ._

Spaces before three of the periods, the Billy Ray equivalent of SOS. She drops her head back against the wall. They're fucked.

**

She's back in LA that night. She goes from the airport straight to Joe's.

"What the hell?" she says as soon as he opens the door. He looks ashen, drawn and sickly. When she hugs him he barely has the presence of mind to hug back. That's how she knows it's _really_ bad. She kisses his jaw quickly; his stubble is rough against her lips. He turns his head so he can kiss her properly, but even that is distracted. "Come on," she says. She ends up tugging him through his own house.

"Talk to me, Billy Ray," she says as soon as they're in the lair.

He sighs. "I think it's best if we let you hear it for yourself."

Demi shoots Joe a confused look. He points to the wall where a video is loading; he sits on the couch and tugs her into his lap, burying his face in her shoulder while the movie starts.

It's Kanye. He's surrounded by so much ornate furniture that makes it look like he's in Midas' deranged castle. Apparently he's pissed about being in London, having to hide from the rest of the world when he didn't do anything wrong. "I APOLOGIZED," he yells. "I TOLD YOU I LIKE THE LYRICS ABOUT BEING A CHEERLEADER AND SHE'S IN THE BLEACHERS. BUT STILL, YOU GIVE ME NO RESPECT."

He takes a deep breath, composing himself, and Demi realizes she's been holding her breath, too. Joe's arms are curling all the way around her waist, digging into her stomach. He's staunchly not watching the video.

Kanye yells about how this isn't just about Taylor winning all the awards, robbing all the other deserving artists of their chance, and how monopolies are anti-American. He rambles a lot and Demi can't always follow his train of thought.

She catches on quick though, when he starts talking about attacking someone who matters to all of them -- "TO YOU THREE" are his exact words, which means he still thinks Demi and Miley and Selena are working together; the dread pools heavy in her gut -- equally.

"I WILL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN," Kanye says, and then the video goes black.

She doesn't need it spelled out for her, though -- Kanye, London, someone who matters equally to all of them. Fuck. "Nick," she says. She has never wanted to be wrong so badly in her life, but when she twists around, all the color's drained from Joe's face and she knows, _knows_ that's exactly what's happening.

"Did he -- have you talked to him? Is he okay?"

Joe shakes his head and Demi's heart falls through her stomach. They're too late. She closes her eyes and tells herself to pull it together. She has to.

She takes a deep breath.

"It'll be okay," she says. Joe nods dumbly. She wraps both her hands around one of his. "Joe, I promise. We'll -- we'll figure it out."

"It's Nick." His voice is so strained that it makes _her_ want to cry. She squeezes his hands and leans forward, resting her forehead against his.

"I know. I promise."

**

They stay up all night trying to think of a plan. Billy Ray organizes the travel logistics -- if nothing else, she and Joe need to get to London stat. But doing that undercover is harder than it looks, and even with all their resources it's going to take some time.

"What if we --" Joe circles a third-story window on the map on the screen. Demi shakes her head for the millionth time that night.

"There's no way. Even if we managed to breach his security -- which we don't even know the full extent of -- it's still not going to work."

There's no two ways about it: they both know it's impossible to do it themselves. They're going to be on Kanye's home turf. _And_ he's expecting them. With two people it's basically a suicide mission. And that's not going to help them get Nick back.

Demi knows what they -- what _she_ \-- has to do. She just -- she hopes it works.

**

"Miley? It's me. Demi. It's kind of an emergency. So Kanye's still pissed about all those times we thwarted his evil plans or whatever and now he's got Nick hostage and since you're in London we -- me and Joe, oh, and your dad, too, well we've kind of kept in touch, kept the whole DEP thing up, but secretly, and anyway we, um, we were wondering if you could help us?"

Even though she and Miley have been talking semi-regularly for a while now, it's the strangest, most stressful phone call Demi's made in her entire life. When she's finished rambling she holds her breath and waits. She hopes Miley hasn't hung up.

There's a long pause, and then: "OH MY GOD, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? DEMI LOVATO, THIS IS NOT FUNNY."

"Miley, I'm not -- I'm not kidding. Do you think I would make a joke about something like this?"

"Well I don't know, whenever we talk you seem kinda mad."

"I _am_ mad! You and Selena ABANDONED me and then you acted like it never happened."

Miley's quiet on the other end. "I don't -- I didn't mean to yell," Demi says. "It's just, things are so crazy here and it's Nick, you know? And Joe's freaking out and _I'm_ freaking out and I don't know how to do this alone."

"You won't," Miley says. "I'll do it. I mean, of course I'll do it. We need a big send off, right? Kick a little Kanye ass, blow some stuff up, save the world."

"And then party?"

"You know it."

Demi catches herself grinning. It's easy to fall back into the same rhythms; she's missed it. They talk shop a little more -- logistics, what Demi knows about Nick, about Kanye, what to expect and what they're trying to prevent.

"So first we need you to reach out, see if you can make contact with Nick. You're already there, so --"

"Right, on it."

"And then, you know, if you could start mapping everything out -- find a way in, find the weak spots."

"The usual, gotcha. No big, Dem, I'm a pro. It'll be like ridin' a bike."

"Easy as pie?"

"Piece of cake!"

"Like falling off a log."

"Like... I dunno, I'm out," Miley says, but they're both laughing. "I'll send you some logistics asap. And whatever I can find out from Nick, 'kay?"

"Okay." Demi nods, even though Miley can't see her. "Thanks."

"No prob."

Demi's about to hang up when Miley says, "Hey, Dem?"

"Yeah?"  
Billy  
"I'm sorry. About -- y'know, everything."

"Thanks."

"Alright. Ten-four, Dragon, over and out. We got an escargot to save."

"... Escargot?"

"I don't know, he needs a code name and isn't that play he's doing about like, France or something?"

Demi cracks up. "Escargot, I like it."

"Yeah, and Nicky'll probably hate it, so."

"Win-win."

"Exactly. Okay. I'll get on it. See you soon?"

"Yeah."

"Roger that. Nighthawk, over and out."

**

Calling Miley was hard. Calling Selena is ten trillion times harder. Demi spends five minutes staring at her phone working up the nerve to even scroll all the way through her contacts and another five with her finger hovering over the call button while she stares at Selena's name on the screen.

It's -- it's complicated, is the best way Demi can put it. She hasn't talked to Sel in _months_, which in them-time is pretty much like being dead to each other. A part of her wouldn't be surprised if Selena just hung up on her, or let it go to voicemail.

"... Demi?"

It sounds like she's at a party or carnival or something, there's so much noise.

"Hi. I didn't mean to bother you, but this is -- it's kind of --"

"Hang on, I can't hear you, let me just --" Selena does something and the noise dies down. "Okay, sorry, that's better."

"It's okay," she says automatically. "Hi." Demi feels so stupidly nervous she can't deal with it.

"Hi." Selena's quiet and Demi realizes she must be waiting for her to say something else.

"Where are you?"

"Budapest. For the movie -- I told you about it, didn't I?"

Demi's pretty sure she didn't, but whatever. That's not the point. The point is Nick and they have to be able to ignore all this crap between them if they're going to save him, stupid personal issues be damned.

"Nick's in trouble," Demi blurts out. Selena inhales sharply and Demi keeps going. "He's in London for Les Miz and now Kanye's being Kanye or whatever and he's pissed and me and Joe are -- well, us and Miley and Billy Ray are trying and -- "

"Demi, hey," Selena interrupts, "I'm on my way. What do we need?"

And just like that, the gang's back together. Demi just wishes it were as big a relief as she'd always imagined it would be.

**

There is an immediate upside: Miley makes contact with Nick. She touches base with the rest of the team while Demi and Joe are in the car, en route to the airport.

"It wasn't easy, but I think he's okay. I mean, you know, as okay as he can be. He says Kanye's lettin' him out to go to play practice still, even though he's like, keeping him locked up the rest of the time. Also, Nick gets mad if you call it 'play practice,' just an FYI. Um, and he says he's getting food and water but that Kanye yells a lot and makes it hard to sleep and that is _not_ conducive to performing on the West End." She says the last part in a Nick voice that manages to crack them all up.

"Good work, Smiley," Billy Ray says. "Selena, whatcha got for us?"

"Everything's falling into place on my end, guys. The train gets me into London in about an hour. I'll meet up with Miley at the hotel, get everything set up, and then we'll do some more recon and wait for Joe and Demi get in tomorrow morning."

"Atta girl. Now I don't want any of you drawin' any attention to yourselves, ya hear? This is a mission, just like all the others. One hundred percent seriousness the whole time."

"You got it."

"Of course."

"Copy that."

"We know, Daddy. We'll be good."

"That's what I like to hear," Billy Ray says. Demi watches the airline signs flick by; the car slows down and starts angling for a spot near the curb. Joe squeezes her hand. It's almost time. "Welcome back, y'all," Billy Ray says. "Reconvene at oh nine hundred."

"Roger that," Demi says. "Demi and Joe going radio silent."

"Good luck!" Miley and Selena yell into their phones, right before Demi and Joe slide out of the car.

**

When the plane lands in Heathrow, Demi's less tired than she thought she'd be. It's a miracle, she thinks. They're going to need a lot more of them.

She and Joe make their way through customs, hats pulled low as they try to look inconspicuous. The last thing they need is to be recognized and have it end up on TMZ. Oh god, she can see the headlines now: DEMI AND JOE'S ROMANTIC GETAWAY??

"Reason for your visit?" the agent asks, and for some reason Demi's mind goes blank. It's horrible. She tells herself it's because her old missions were via private jet; she hasn't seen a customs agent in years. At least not when she's traveling with building blueprints and a cheat sheet on how to dismantle a bomb in her carry-on.

"We're visiting my brother," Joe says easily. The agent smiles -- or, gives them what passes for a smile from a customs agent -- and stamps their passports.

"Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks." Joe's hand on Demi's back propels her forward. "You okay?" he asks, when they're out of earshot.

"Yeah. Sorry, I don't know what that was about."

Joe leans forward and kisses her cheek. "Game faces," he says, his forehead resting against her temple. She takes a deep breath and nods. She can do this. Like riding a bike.

**

Selena's waiting for them at baggage, standing there with a sign that says NIGHTHAWK.

"I was Dragon," Demi says.

"Miley couldn't remember." Selena's smiling though and Demi can't help but smile back. It's good to see her.

"How come my name's not on the sign?" Joe whines.

They both hit him, slugging him gently in each arm. He staggers back like it was a couple of full-force punches.

Demi hugs Sel impulsively. Selena hugs back, her arms wrapping around Demi's shoulders, and Demi sighs a little, relieved. And then she hates that she feels relieved. It's _Selena_. Things never used to be weird with her.

"Does Miley know anything?" she asks when she lets go. "Has she made any more contact?"

"Sort of."

Selena tells them everything she knows as they walk to the car -- Miley hasn't seen Nick but she has talked to him, a little bit. Texts, mostly. He's still tweeting, which is good. She and Miley think they've pinned down Kanye's base of operations.

"So you've done all my work for me, Gomez?" Joe says.

"Well. Somebody's gotta pick up the slack." She smiles wryly at him and he laughs. Selena pops the trunk and holds out her hand, motioning for Demi to pass her her bag.

When Demi steps closer, she notices the trunk is full of weaponry. Ammo cases and gun cases and -- "Oh my god," Demi says.

Selena shrugs. "I know some people."

"What _kind_ of people?" Joe hisses to Demi under his breath. She elbows him in the ribs. Shady dealings or not, they're going to need all the help they can get.

**

Before they pull out of the parking lot, Selena opens her purse and hands Joe an iPad. "Here."

"Oh my god you have one?" Joe completely ignores the Keynote presentation Sel opened for them to look at.

Selena rolls her eyes and taps the screen. "That's everything we've got so far," she says, and then she leaves them alone so she can concentrate on driving on the opposite side of the street.

**

It's been less than two days but Sel and Miley already set up a new HQ at their hotel.

"Wow, you really went all out," Joe says, taking it all in.

"Oh, no, it wasn't me," Sel says. "It was like this when I got here."

Joe kicks his feet up onto the desk, stretching out. "Feels like home," he says. "Like a super-sized lair."

Demi grins at the joke. "We built -- sorry, _Joe_ built a secret lair in his new place so he could keep tabs on Kanye and everything. We've been operating out of there for a couple months now."

"Cool." Selena nods. She doesn't ask what happened to their old HQ.

"It was way more than cool, Selena," Joe starts.

"Joesph Jonas, tell me you are not putting your stank feet all over my nice desk." Miley stops in the doorway. She snaps her gun and smiles at him.

"I thought going rogue would've made you more Rambo less... random homeless person," he says, grinning back at her and pointing at her shredded t-shirt.

"Maybe you need to get your hipster prescription checked Jonas. This is fashion. Besides, you want Rambo?" Miley opens her vest to reveal a gun holstered to her side.

"Holy shit," Joe says. Demi feels like her eyes are going to bug out of her head, she doesn't know why. It's not like they all haven't carried guns before. Maybe it's that they never wore them around, just for kicks.

Miley just shrugs. "Daddy said y'all said it was dangerous."

"We don't just walk around with _guns_, Miles."

"Times are different, Jonas. And besides, what's this we stuff? When did you _ever_ get a gun."

"I went through weapons training just like you did!"

"So did Daddy but he ain't packin', now is he?"

"He might be, since apparently times are so diff--"

"Really, guys?" Selena buts in. She rolls her eyes at Demi like, remember this crap? Can you believe it's still happening? Demi smiles.

Miley and Joe both sigh and roll their eyes but they shut up, too.

Miley throws herself over the back of the couch, sliding so she's sprawled across it, legs in Demi's lap. Selena slides in on Demi's other side, the three of them crammed onto the couch like old times.

"So, what's the what?" Miley's looking at Joe, but Sel's the one who starts talking.

**

The recap lasts forever. They rewatch Kanye's video for the millionth time and Joe tells them everything they could ever need to know about Kanye -- a history of his outbursts, likely outcomes for this whole disaster, everything. Miley shows them the blueprints for his building. Selena goes through the weapons cache, separating everything into piles for each of them, who might need what.

There's a lull after Selena sits back down. They're all just trying to process the enormity of the situation.

Then Selena pokes Demi in the side. "So? What's the game plan?"

They all look at her expectantly. Selena got the guns and Miley's been casing the joint and now they need to know what to do. And that's Demi's job.

Joe remotely hacks into their stuff at home -- "This is totally legal," he says. "I think" -- and pulls up his files on their TV screen.

"This is what we've got," he says. Miley leans over the computer and starts adding in stuff they've found out since she and Sel got here. Stuff Nick's told her. And suddenly it really does feel like old times, the four of them talking over each other and arguing about the tiniest things.

Demi sits on the edge of Joe's desk and grabs his laser pointer to show what she thinks they need to do first. Joe rests his hand on her back, warm and reassuring.

Everything is the same. Everything is different.

**

There's a weird moment when the room phone starts ringing and they can't figure out where, exactly the noise is coming from. They have too much stuff that beeps or rings or chimes.

Selena's the one who finds it. "Hello? Yes, this is she. Um... alright, send it up. Thank you." She hangs up and looks at everyone. "Miley, someone sent you a package."

"Daddy?"

Joe shrugs. "He didn't mention sending anything. At least, nothing that wasn't, you know, email-able."

"So someone else then," Miley says. It comes out sounding like a question.

Joe nods. He looks worried.

Demi sighs. Great. Now they're going to have to test whatever the package is for bombs or anthrax or whatever.

**

It's worse. So much worse that Demi actually wishes it had been a bomb or anthrax because at least they would've known how to deal.

Instead it's a USB stick shaped like a tiny person -- a tiny Lady Gaga to be exact.

"I heard about these," Selena says, while Joe's busy checking the thing for viruses and whatnot on one of their backup computers. "It's like a limited edition that she designed herself."

"Huh." Miley and Demi crane their necks to look at it.

"I would've thought it would be like... sparklier, or something," Demi says.

"It's clean. Here." Joe hits a few buttons and a folder pops up on the TV screen. The only file in it is THISISADISASTER.mp4. "Ready?"

They're not, but they all nod anyway. Joe opens it.

It fades from black and Gaga's sitting there, wearing mouse ears and a suit made of stuffed Barneys. Some of them have had their heads ripped off.

"Hello." She nods to the camera. "By now I am sure you have heard of my comrade's plan."

Kanye pops into the side of the screen, closer than Gaga. "GREETINGS FROM LOVE LOCKDOWN."

He disappears just as quickly and she continues, "We are all monsters. I am a conquistador. But you people, _you_ \--"

"PULL A MONSTER OUT OF YOUR SOUL," Kanye interrupts.

"You are poison in the wellspring of life."

"Harsh," Selena whispers. Demi nods. On the screen, Gaga keeps talking. She's holding another stuffed Barney, twisting it's head around and around. Demi watches that instead, waiting for it to tear clean off.

The video would be more intimidating if Kanye didn't keep interrupting her, yelling that the monster isn't dead, it'll be alive and sitting on his shoulder when he gets back to -- they never find out where. The tape ends abruptly.

They all sit there in a shocked silence, trying to process.

"Was that -- was her outfit a _threat_?" Miley asks.

"You know, I think it was." Selena sounds like she can't decide whether to laugh or cry. Demi feels the same way, like she's on the verge of hysterical.

Billy Ray scares them when he comes on over the speakers all, "JOSEPH. THIS HAD BETTER BE YOUR IDEA OF A PRACTICAL JOKE, SON."

"It's not a joke, Billy Ray," Demi says. "She's really here."

Billy Ray whistles, long and low. "Alright, nothin' we can't handle," he says eventually. "Y'all just be EXTRA careful around this Lady Gaga, I heard somethin'-or-other about her and somethin' called a disco stick? I think it's some kinda ninja weapon."

Miley makes a face. "I think maybe you should listen to that song a little more carefully, Daddy."

"What?"

"We'll be careful, we promise," Selena says. "We're working out a new plan of attack right now."

"Plus there's the RoboCop army Kanye's been building to like, defend his whole hideout thingy."

They're all so stunned it's dead silent in the room.

"Look at me, dropping information bombs," Miley says. She's a little proud, but it's barely a second before she's frowning. "We're screwed."

"Whoa Nelly," Billy Ray says. "Are you sure about this? What's a RoboCop?"

Miley nods and then remembers he can't see her. "100% positive. It's like, y'know, a robot policeman. Nick texted me from practice."

"This was maybe some information we could've used a little earlier, Miles," Joe says. She shrugs. Now that Gaga's in the mix, the RoboCop news is barely a drop in the bucket.

"Well," Billy Ray says. "It sounds like we've got ourselves a full-blown situation."

"Oh no, is he here, too?" Selena whispers to Demi. Demi covers her mouth to stifle her giggles. It's not worth it, trying to explain The Situation to Billy Ray.

But the new info means they need to readjust oh, everything. Joe takes Billy Ray off speakerphone and takes the phone out to the balcony to talk, cursing under his breath.

As soon as he's gone, Miley and Selena bust open the gun cache and start making jokes about target practice, aiming at the ugly hotel art hanging on the walls.

"I missed this," Miley says, buckling a utility belt around her hips. "Oh my god, Selena, this is a --" She can't even get the words out, she's so excited. Selena starts laughing, nodding, and then they're both freaking out over everything.

Demi gets bored watching them. She wanders outside just as Joe's hanging up.

"Hey."

Demi doesn't say anything. She leans against the railing. London's dark. Like this, it could be anywhere.

Joe comes up behind her and leans against her back, his hands next to hers on the railing, bracketing her.

"I'm good," she says. He rests his chin on top of her head.

"I know." He wraps an arm around her middle and kisses her hair. She can feel him breathing. On the street below, a double decker rumbles by; Joe waves to it. "'Ello there, mates!"

Demi cracks up. "Was that supposed to be British?"

"What else would it be?"

"Australian? Horrible?"

"Hey!" He pinches her side. "Take it back."

"Take back the truth? You want a relationship built on a foundation of lies?"

They're still bickering when there's a loud crash inside. Demi freezes, automatically thinking of all the worst-case scenarios. Kanye. Gaga. Anyone.

"Shit," Selena says.

Demi and Joe turn around only to see Miley holding a crossbow. There's something Demi's pretty sure used to be a decorative vase shattered on the floor.

"Oops?

"Maybe we leave the weapons to Selena?" Joe suggests, walking towards the door. Demi stands next to him.

"But how will I learn if you don't let me?"

"For all our sakes, I hope you never learn."

"I really did not miss you, Jonas." She's clearly lying.

"Feeling's mutual."

Miley sticks her tongue out at him. Selena rolls her eyes. "So. Billy Ray have any new orders?"

Selena's always been the best at refocusing them. Joe squeezes Demi's hip and steps inside to show them the new plans Billy Ray's sent over.

**

Billy Ray's first and biggest order was that they push everything back one day -- there's been too much new information in the last hour to risk going in now. They need time to reassess and recalibrate.

Tomorrow night. That's the new plan. Which is probably good -- jet lag's setting in and the sun's going to be up in an hour or two anyway. And Demi's starving. She just realized that.

They order room service -- all the food on the menu. Literally. Joe sticks around long enough to grab a plate piled high with chicken fingers and potato chips and carrot sticks.

"I'm trying to be healthier," he says when Miley makes a face. She ignores him in favor of the mozzarella sticks.

Joe takes his plate next door so he and Billy Ray can come up with a new plan of attack. Especially since Kanye knows they're here, knows they're planning to come to him. And is ready and waiting for them.

The door's still swinging shut behind him when Miley carefully sets down her plate. Selena does the same. Demi suspects they're having some sort of silent conversation over her head.

"So," Miley says eventually. "You and Joe, huh?"

Demi shrugs. "You guys were gone."

It's quiet for a long time, and then Selena leans over and hugs her, knocking her sideways.

Miley piles on top, her face smashed into Demi's arm. "Girl, do not use us as your Jonas excuse."

Demi curls her fingers into someone's shirt and laughs. She's missed this.

**

They get a few hours of sleep and then it's up-and-at-'em, a sudden last minute rush to get the minutia taken care of.

Demi and Selena are in their own worlds, working on multiple cover stories (just in case) and weapons handling, respectively, staying behind while Joe and Miley head out to "procure" transport. Selena's sedan from the airport isn't going to be any help, they'll need a van. The upside of staying behind is Demi gets to stay in her pj's. The downside is she's the one Miley calls when they get lost on the way back.

"What's wrong? Did you not get it?" Demi asks as soon as she answers the phone. She's picturing a million horrible scenarios -- most of them ending with Joe and Miley in jail, or worse: Kanye's.

"Nothing's _wrong_," Miley says, "Of course we got the car, I'm still a pro, aren't I?"

"Yeah, a real champion hot-wirer," Joe says dryly. His voice sounds farther away, which means Miley's driving _and_ holding the phone. Oh, awesome. They're going to die and then it'll be up to Sel and Demi to rescue Nick. Alone.

"Listen, Jonas, you can get out here if you have a problem with it."

"I'm supposed to be driving," he says.

"You're _supposed_ to be navigating. But instead he NAVIGATED US INTO A DEAD END." Miley shouts the last part into the phone, so Demi assumes that's supposed to be for her benefit.

"You're the one who's supposed to be good at this!" Joe yells. "I don't know how you managed to save the world so many times if you're such a crappy spy."

"LISTEN, JONAS. I am a GOOD SPY --"

"A good spy would FIND US A NEW ROUTE FASTER --"

"I am just A LITTLE OUTTA PRACTICE."

"Uh, guys? Make a left at the next light, okay?" Demi says. She watches the GPS tracker make the left. "One mile, then a right at the bridge." She can hear Miley and Joe bickering still, but it's quieter at least.

"Oh, I recognize that tree!" Miley says.

In the background Joe starts making noises of disbelief all, "You recognize a _tree_? It looks like a TREE," but Miley ignores him.

"I totally know where we are now. Awesome. Okay, I can take it from here. We'll be back soon, Dragon. Just -- don't go too far from your phone, 'kay?"

"I'll be right here," Demi promises. Miley hangs up without saying goodbye. Demi figures Joe's still yelling about the tree sighting. She laughs to herself.

There's a quiet knock at the door. When Demi looks up, Sel's there. She's still in her pajamas, too, her hair in a messy bun. The only thing that's out-of-place is the bandoleer slung across her chest like some fucked-up fashion accessory.

"Everything go okay?"

Demi shrugs. "They got lost on the way back. It's fine now. They'll be here soon."

"Miley let Joe navigate, huh?"

"Yeah." Demi laughs. "Hopefully that's the last _completely wrong decision_ we make today."

Demi means it as a joke but it must come out strained because Selena's frowns, worry-lines furrowing her brow, before she schools her face back to normal. Demi catches it, though. She forgot how easily they could read each other.

Selena picks her way across the room, carefully stepping over Demi's piles of print-outs and maps and other discarded, possibly-important crap. She sits down next to Demi, in what's pretty much the only clear space. For a while she picks through one of the piles, quietly reading Demi's notes. She gets bored, though, and ends up watching over Demi's shoulder as she crosschecks Google Maps with a real one, highlighting multiple escape routes in orange highlighter.

She finishes marking up the map -- backup, in case there's a freak accident and all their phones fail -- and sets everything aside. She's running through her mental to-do list, trying to decide which pile to tackle next, when Selena says, "So. Joe, huh?"

It's not mean, really, but something in Demi prickles anyway. "Nick, huh?" she parrots back a little snottily.

Sel sighs and Demi feels all the weird sharp edges inside her soften. Selena rests her head on Demi's shoulder and says, "I don't know. I just -- I guess I wanted something that seemed, I don't know... easy. That's so dumb. When is anything with Nick ever easy?"

She laughs at herself. Demi rests her cheek on Selena's hair. It's soft and smells like the same shampoo she's been using since forever. It's so familiar and home-like that it almost hurts. Demi sits back up. Everything starts running through her head at the same time -- how weird and not-weird it's been since she got to London, how horrible last year was, how long it took for her to feel not-horrible -- building into this swirl of anger and sadness inside her that she just wants out. She wants to be done with it forever.

"I missed you," is what she says eventually. "Like, a lot." Selena sits up but doesn't say anything so Demi keeps talking. "You just _left_ and you never said anything and at first I thought I was sad because of all this stuff but then you never even called and. I don't know. It's _us_. And you just... forgot about it. Like it didn't even matter."

"I'm sorry."

Demi takes a deep breath and stares very hard at the wall, willing the tears back into her eyes. Selena clears her throat.

"I should've called. I shouldn't've -- I was a jerk. I got overwhelmed by it all -- this and the singing and Nick and then you and Joe were always and everything just felt like so much and I don't know." Selena's hands twitch through the air like they do when she gets really worked up. "And then Miley called me and told me she was quitting and it sounded like such a relief and it _was_ but then you were still and it wasn't and then it went on for too long and I couldn't stop thinking at how you were so mad at me and then you were all over everywhere doing your own happy thing and I thought maybe you didn't care and -- I don't know, I'm really sorry."

She drops her hands into her lap. The room is disconcertingly quiet; Demi's eerily aware of both their shaky breathing. How Selena sounds a little like she's crying, too.

"I know," she says after what feels like a really long time. Because she does know. They've been friends for over half their lives. Of course she knows. That's what makes it all so much worse. "I get it. And I'm sorry, too." She is -- this whole thing has been a two-way street. She knows Selena got asked about her "Ask Taylor" outburst in London at least a thousand times, let alone everything she's probably gotten secondhand from Nick or David or anyone, anywhere. God, this whole thing is so stupid and messed up. She just wants it to be normal again. "I just --"

"Yeah." Selena gets it, too. She always has. She worms her arms around Demi, hugging her close. Demi hugs back.

"I'm still kinda mad at you," she says, her face smashed against Sel's neck.

"You can be mad at me 'til we're forty, I don't care as long as you're still _here_." She hugs tighter to emphasize her point.

"I'm not the one who left." She can feel Sel stiffen. Demi pulls back and makes a face. "Too soon?"

Selena squeezes her side. "I hate you," she says, but she can't hide her smile and then neither of them can stop laughing.

**

The rest of the day goes by so fast it almost feels like a movie montage: Joe and Miley come back, still bickering, Miley twirling the keys around her finger before she tosses them to Selena. Sel and Miley loading weapons into the van while Joe and Demi go over last minute details with Billy Ray. The four of them changing into mission gear. Syncing their watches. Checking their weapons. Joe making sure the surveillance in the van is up and running. Miley and Demi and Sel testing their comm links. Joe cornering Demi in the kitchenette, pinning her against the counter while he kisses her, his hand on her jaw, thumb running over her skin like he's trying to memorize the curve of her cheekbone. One last rally cry from Billy Ray before they go radio silent.

Everything about it is seamless. They're like a well-oiled machine even after all this time.

"I can't believe we're going to pull this off," Demi says quietly.

"Easy there, tiger," Miley says, equally quietly. "We still got a lotta ways to go."

"Aren't you supposed to make a left here?" Joe asks from the back of the van.

"Oh, look who suddenly knows how to navigate!" Miley says as she cuts across two lanes of traffic to make the left. Demi ducks her head so she doesn't have to see the oncoming traffic.

"_Jesus_, Miley, I would like to live until we at _least_ get to the site," Joe yells.

"Do you want me to pull this van over? Because I will."

"Oh my god," Selena says, pressing her fingertips to her forehead.

**

They make it without crashing or Miley actually stopping the van to kick Joe out, so technically the drive can be considered a success.

There's a minute after the car stops, after Miley kills the engine and everything shudders down to silent, where they all just sit there. The air feels thick with anticipation. Demi tells herself there's no reason to be nervous. They've done this a thousand times before. They can do it again.

"Okay." Miley nods and claps her hands together. Demi doesn't know if she's talking to herself or everyone, but that kicks them all into motion.

Right before she climbs out of the van, Joe snag's Demi's hem.

"Hey," he says, waiting for her to turn around. He kisses her, a quick press of his lips against hers. "For luck."

When Demi turns around, Miley and Sel are standing their, hands pressed to their hearts. "Awwww."

Demi rolls her eyes. "Are we ready?"

"Wait." Miley presses a smacking kiss to her cheek. "For luck," she says. While Demi's glaring at her, Sel kisses her other cheek.

"Guys," she says, exasperated. Behind her, Joe snickers. "Oh my god, let's go," she says, hurrying off, leaving them to follow.

**

Miley and Selena go in first, slipping through a grate and into the vents. Since Demi's the one responsible for actually getting Nick, she waits five minutes and slips in through the service entrance in the back. The building's an old monastery, cold stone walls and thick wooden doors. Her footsteps echo no matter how carefully she tiptoes.

Demi does a literal double-take when she sees him. "Joe! You were supposed to STAY IN THE CAR."

"It's hot in there?"

She's about to send him back -- who's monitoring the grounds if Joe's abandoned all their surveillance stuff and followed her here? Plus it's safer there -- but before she can argue, music starts playing. They both look around, trying to figure out where it's coming from.

"I think it's everywhere," Joe says. He's right. Demi can see speakers in the walls all the way down the hallway. They're probably in every room. "Is this 808s and Heartbreak?"

Joe looks appalled and normally Demi would laugh -- of course Kanye's using his own album as psychological warfare -- but the first wave of RoboCops is coming.

"Dammit." She shoves him into a corner where it's at least a little sheltered. "Stay down."

She turns around and opens fire.

**

They run into Gaga before anyone else. Of course they do. Of freakin' course.

She's standing at the top of the staircase, in front of a split-screen playing half her videos and half Kanye's, throwing Molotov cocktails at them and laughing maniacally. It looks like she's wearing a dress made out of bullets. Demi can't help thinking how dangerous that must be. It's kind of a ridiculous thought given their situation.

"She is actually insane," Joe says, awed, just as Gaga yells, "SHOW ME YOUR FUCKING TEETH," and hurls one of the bottles right towards them. Demi instinctively pulls Joe out of the way. She can feel her shirt catch on fire as she's moving. She turns her duck into a tuck-and-roll, which puts it out quickly.

It's fine. She doesn't look at it -- what she doesn't know can't hurt her. She'll assess the injuries later, when she can actually take the time to process the pain. Right now there's so much more to worry about.

Like getting upstairs. To Nick.

"Come on." Demi waves Joe behind her and then changes her mind. "Wait. Here." She pulls a gun out of her leg holster and gives it to him. "Just in case."

He stares at the gun in his hand for a long second and then looks up at her. He leans in and kisses her, a quick press of his lips. "For luck," he says.

"You said that already." But Demi smiles anyway. And then she forces herself to get moving. "Let's go. Stay low. Follow me."

Demi doesn't know exactly how they get separated -- she thinks it was the explosion. She dove left and Joe must have gone right, both trying to take cover in the blast. All she knows is she looked up and he was gone.

"JOE. JOE?" All she can hear is a ringing in her ears. "_Fuck_." Into the commlink she says, "Slight change of plans, guys. Gotta find Joe first. Should put me no more than ten minutes off schedule."

"Copy that," Selena says.

"I wish he'd stayed in the car," Miley adds.

Demi stalks down a hallway. "Don't we all," she mutters. And then she hears it.

"DEMI. DEMI."

She follows the sound of his voice, cautiously taking the corners so she doesn't run into any RoboCops or worse: Gaga. She's pretty sure Gaga's even worse than Kanye at this point. All he does is stand around and wave his arms and yell and build robots with guns for hands. Gaga is the most unpredictable opponent Demi's ever had to deal with.

Demi follows the sound of Joe's voice, like the world's most desperate game of Marco Polo. When she finds him, he's trapped in some weirdo prison. There aren't bars, but it's almost like he's tied to something. She rushes over and tries to pry him loose, but she can't. The more he struggles, the harder it holds him, like one of those Chinese finger traps, only instead of bamboo it's --

"Ew," she says, "is that hair? Oh god, the rope is made out of hair."

She shudders and tries not to think about it as she sets about cutting him loose with her knife. It doesn't help that she keeps having to stop to take out a fresh wave of RoboCops.

"I really wish you'd stayed in the car," she hisses at one point, but then it's the last strand and Joe's tumbling loose, falling on top of her with her limbs splayed. He's really lucky she moved the knife out of the way in time.

"I totally could've gotten out of that, you know," he says as they sit up.

Demi looks at the army of RoboCops she just destroyed, smoking and scattered across the floor. The hair rope is twitching a little on the floor and some of the curtains on the far wall are smoldering from Molotov cocktails. She pats Joe's arm and says, "I know."

They sit there for another minute, staring at each other and trying to catch their breath. Demi's hand is on his arm still. He studies the hemline of her shirt, traces the burn mark with his fingers. When he looks up, his eyes are dark. Demi feels like the the air's been sucked out of the room.

"It's fine," she says. Her voice is strained. "I'm fine."

Joe's fingers tighten in her shirt. And then his other arm is wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. He kisses her like he's dying for it and she melts into it, clutching at him, adrenaline and something else pooling in her stomach, in her veins.

It's Miley that ruins the moment, her voice screaming over the commlink, loud enough to make them leap apart.

"HEY GUYS IF Y'ALL AREN'T TOO BUSY I DON'T KNOW IF YOU HEARD BUT WE'VE GOT KIND OF A SITUATION UP HERE."

In the background, Demi can just make out Kanye's voice. Shit.

**

Demi checks the GPS -- Miley's up two flights and to the left. Selena's to the right.

"God, these trackers were a brilliant idea," she says.

Joe grins. "I know."

The RoboCop comes out of nowhere. One minute Joe's standing there, smiling at her, joking around, and the next he's crumbling to the ground like a puppet whose strings just got cut. He doesn't make a sound. It's horrifying to watch.

"Shit," Demi says, shooting the RoboCop twice -- once in the chest, once in the head. It staggers backwards, smoking, making a sound like a system crashing. She shoots it once more and it goes silent as it collapses.

Demi drops to her knees and tries not to cry.

"Joe? Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit." He's clutching his leg and biting his lip, trying not to make any sound. He looks like he's going to throw up or pass out. "It's okay. You're okay. It's gonna be okay," she says.

"SERIOUSLY, DEMI, I KNOW YOU'RE LIKE, IN LOVE OR WHATEVER, BUT CAN YOU PLEASE HURRY UP? WE ARE IN A BIT OF A JAM RIGHT NOW."

"UM. WE'RE KIND OF IN ONE DOWN HERE, TOO," Demi yells, her hands pressing into the bullet wound on Joe's leg.

**

It doesn't take much longer for Miley and Selena to find Kanye holed up in one of the rooms, guarding Nick. Demi listens to the whole thing as it happens, like a radio play-by-play, as she tears strips from her shirt for a tourniquet.

"Don't look directly at his suit!" Selena yells and Demi immediately pictures Kanye in one of his glowing, radioactive suits, just like they were afraid of.

"See, this is why I said we should wear sunglasses," Miley says, just as Kanye yells, "I AM THE GREATEST VILLAIN OF ALL TIIIIIIIIME."

Selena tranqs him right then. Demi can hear the heavy thud of his body slumping to the ground.

"Go go go," Selena orders, probably waving Miley on, providing covering fire, taking out the last of the RoboCops while Miley gets to Nick.

"ESCARGOT IS IN CUSTODY," she yells after, even though yelling is wholly unnecessary. She must've been real close to the blast before. Demi's heart seizes up again and then she remembers they're fine. It's over. Everyone's fine. Well. Almost everyone.

"C'mon," she says, stooping so she can get Joe's arm over her shoulders. His leg's looking pretty rough. "Let's get out of here."

**

Everyone else is already at the rendezvous point by the time she and Joe limp up. They're standing there, three in a row, looking bedraggled and exhausted. Miley and Selena are both a mess -- their hair's going every which way, they've got tears in their clothes and grease stains or char marks or dirt smeared everywhere. Selena has a thin gash across her cheekbone, dried blood dark against her skin. Miley's missing a sizable chunk of her hair. Demi doesn't even want to look in a mirror; she's pretty sure she looks just the same, if not worse.

When they're close enough, she waves to them. She keeps her voice quiet when she says, "Hey, Nicky." He looks totally shaken; he doesn't even respond.

Behind him, Miley starts waving her hands around like a game of charades. Demi narrows her eyes and tries to piece it together. Nick. Blacked out? Hit his head? Is blind? She doesn't get it and Miley starts getting more and more annoyed. Demi rolls her eyes. Whatever, she doesn't have time for this. She's tired and everything hurts and they need to get Joe to a hospital before things go haywire.

She reaches out and touches Nick's arm. That jars him back to life; his head snaps up and his eyes clear and -- oh crap, had Selena wiped his memories already? Behind him, Miley drops her arms to her side and sighs. Demi winces. Shit.

"Demi? Joe?" Nick looks around, taking it all in. Now he looks shaken _and_ confused. "Why are you guys here?"

They all look at each other. "Uh."

"Surprise?" Joe says.

Nick has to blink like, fifteen times before anything registers. And then it's like he's seeing it all at once -- the four of them, the guns, Joe bleeding all over the place, his arm tight around Demi's neck. His eyes go wide.

"Flesh wound," Joe says, shrugging it off. Even though his breathing is too fast. Even though he's pale and clammy. "Job hazard."

"C'mon, Danger," Demi says, rolling her eyes. "Let's get that flesh wound looked at."

"Job hazard?" Nick sounds so confused as Demi helps Joe hobble away.

"It's a long story," she hears Selena say behind them.

"We're spies," Miley says.

"That's the Cliffs Notes version."

Demi's pretty sure she can hear the gears grinding in Nick's brain, louder and louder even though she's getting farther away.

"WHAT?" he yells, his voice getting high. Miley laughs, delighted.

**

The doctor kicks them all out of the room as soon as he gets there.

"Yes, Daddy, we have our stories worked out," Miley says, exasperated. She drew the short straw and got stuck fielding all Billy Ray's called while Joe's incapacitated. "Joe'll be fine. I don't think the bullet's even still in his leg."

Nick pales.

"Hey." Demi bumps his shoulder with hers. "He's fine. Well. He'll _be_ fine."

"Does this happen to you guys a lot?"

"Do we get shot a lot?" Demi can't help laughing. She thinks it's probably the nerves and adrenaline and everything making her a little crazy. "No. Surprisingly, Joe is the first."

"He's supposed to stay in the car," Selena says. She holds out a tray of coffee from the cafeteria and then sits down on Nick's other side. "God. David would be so pissed if he found out he missed this."

The plastic chairs are painfully uncomfortable. The lights are too bright. Demi shifts and drinks her watery coffee. She tells herself Joe is fine. Everything is fine.

"Hey, look." Nick points to the TV on the wall, BBC on mute.

"Aw, crap," Selena says, watching the footage of Kanye's building going up in smoke. Apparently it was some sort of British landmark or something.

"Oops?" Demi says.

Miley frowns. "Do you think Daddy'll believe it wasn't us?"

The doctor comes out then and they all try to pretend like they were just staring at the wall. He looks at them strangely and says, "You can go in now. Try not to get him riled up, okay?"

They nod. He doesn't mention anything about the shadiness of their situation. He doesn't even act like he just treated a Jonas Brother, or met a good chunk of the Disney contingent.

"This is not the action movie ending I imagined," Joe says as they all file in. He's hooked up to oxygen and IV's and all sorts of intimidating machines. Demi reminds herself that he's fine, though. Good as new. Or he will be, eventually. Relief floods through her and she feels a thousand times lighter.

She smiles as she kisses his temple. "Imagine that."

Everyone laughs a little too hard. They're all relieved, is what it boils down to. And Joe's excited about the prospects of a badass scar and the war story that goes along with it. Well, he's excited until the doctor sternly explains that he'll to stay in the hospital for a little while, just to make sure things are okay and get fluids in him and sign his discharge papers. And that the hospital typically limits trauma patients to one visitor at a time. Then he gets a little cranky.

In his defense, Miley does, too. "That could be _hours_," she whines. "And I don't know about y'all, but I am STARVING."

"Pizza," Selena says after a minute.

Miley nods. "Oooh, and grilled cheese."

Demi's stomach rumbles. Joe _is_ going to be stuck here for a long time. "Fries," she says decisively.

Miley links her arms through theirs. "Ladies. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to find me a place that serves all three. And ice cream. And maybe some Chinese food."

"On it." Sel pulls out her phone and starts typing.

"What about _me_?" Joe whines as they're leaving. "I'm hungry, too!"

"Shouldn't've gotten shot, Jonas!" Miley yells back. "Enjoy your jello!"

Demi bends to kiss him. "We'll be back soon," she promises. "You sit here and impress Nick with tales of my bravery. Maybe we'll bring you back some fries."

Joe blinks at her. For a second she thinks he's going to get mad or maybe cry -- the drugs make people loopy, she knows that. He blinks again and his eyes clear. "We're in England, here they call them chips, Demetria. God. You're so uncultured."

She rolls her eyes and pats his foot, laughing as Miley hustles her out the door. When she turns back to wave to Joe one last time, he's watching her. She smiles and he smiles back, winks and blows another kiss. She rolls her eyes and watches as he turns to Nick and starts gesturing enthusiastically.

"Yo, Dems, what're you waiting for, a golden invitation?"

"I think I saw some at Kanye's," Selena says, grinning. "You know, before things started literally blowing up in my face."

Demi cracks up as she jogs down the hallway to catch up with them.

"Hey." Miley breaks into a grin as she holds the door open for them. "Can I get an amen?"

"Amen!" Selena and Demi cheer, grinning like fools.

The sun is coming up, pink on the horizon. There's a tiredness pricking at her bones that Demi knows will hit her like a truck in a few hours, but right now she's wide awake and happy. Sel falls into step beside her, linking their arms while Miley tries to remember where they parked the van.

"How did you forget?" Selena asks.

Miley throws her hands up. "Uh, it was kinda an emergency."

Demi tips her head onto Selena's shoulder and laughs. Everything feels like it's sliding into place.


End file.
